From the front porch she looked tall and beautiful.
From the back window we saw her crying, her lover sitting in the old tire swing.
Love's thorn had stuck her with the poison of despair.
Her black hair laid on the ground her back arched as she twisted and reeled.
From the back porch we smelled the sweet odor of perfume as the tears saturated the ground... she was all alone now... bawling into the hard earth. As she looked on from the tire... staring with lustless eyes.
From the front window we saw her drive away... despair behind the wheel... the poison had taken over her body as the souless shell lingered on the tire swing... dangling like a pendulum indifferent to motion... no passion to swing up or down... frozen here in the dark.


my muse: someone else...