On a fallen day she stands,
To pick up life’s strands..
When He is leaving again
Everything uncertain!
Nothing smiling around
Except for teethy hounds;
Leering and salivating
Preying on her, feeding,
Is their thought (dis)pleasing.

So on this day She gathers,
wishes like leaves,
that weave the ground
Or Scattered notes sernanded
In her memories that abound.
So wearing a craft moonbeaming,
A veneer disarmingly deceiving,
A smile helps her mask
Emotions; A gruesome task.

She lifts her creases aloft
Her eyes have some tear drops;
Bright eyes maqueraded
The cover shall calm her quell*;
And tears that hide behind the veil,
Beneath a veil of all well.
Lined and laquered mascara lashes
underneath a heavy drape;
A face flushed hot, not with passion,
The visage, concealed, a Camoflauge.
Lipstick staining her Lips red
To hide the quiver that quakes;
She carries with dignity her lofty self
Cloaking Inside, a swell heart that aches.

*quell= • n. murder/slaughter
#serenade=
• n. a piece of music sung or played in the open air, typically by a man at night under the window of his lover.

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