She waits for him,
Naked, alone,
Hope half alive,
Deep down, she knows.
She is aware
Of many things
Of him
Of her beauty, neglected.
With merlot eyes
And dark-stained lips
Scent is cigarettes, Chanel
She leans by the open window
Neither saint nor sinner
She is just a woman,
Imperfectly alluring
Glowing in the night.
This woman
Master of repression,
She is well-aquainted,
Knows just how to forget.
So she waits
With lights dimmed low,
For him,
For anything at all.
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