Oh how her eyes burn, and water,
Crawling down her face, drops landing on her wrinkled trousers.
She sees her drumming her fingers to the tune of her hesitation,
Her nails black in the dim glow of the shadowed lounge.
She had wanted her, somewhere, sometimes earlier.
Maybe she had much to drink or maybe too little,
But now her only desire is for her to stop, leave, go.
She was to peel away the rotting flesh of her fears,
By letting her give her what she wants,
Had wanted.
But her wallet is worn and old, far too small to contain
What amounts she lusts for.
And so she smokes her cigarette, the sweet sudden smell
Of burning flesh as she touches it gently, gently to the pale wrist,
A wrist that so many like her have held, caressed.
She knows she has burned her with guilt.
She leaves her, without the satisfaction of sale, she leaves her
She had wanted her to drink from her cup of loneliness,
But it was bitter, it smokes and it stings,
And oh how her eyes burn, and water.