The Other Woman

Kohl-lined eyes and a blue skirt
Sometimes even a dash of red,
And she was beautiful for one more night
Before the sun rose,torn, from her bed..

The mirror glared and the sunbeams scorned..
The skirt shed tears from where it hung,
The patches cried with heartbroken sobs..
The blue that had soothed, now stung..

She sat bare from dawn to dusk..
Having only void feelings to lend,
To the grieving dusk that wished
Only for a quick,painless end..

She lived in his pleasure of leisure
But perished when conscience begun..
The daily knocking on the door..
The door that his beloved did shun..

I stand in the doorway of solitude,
Like an untouched bottle of gin..
Lured in by the mirage of love..
Tumbling upon the sands of sin..

Trapped in what makes my heart beat..
I've embraced every thorn, spared none..
But while I am "the tragic hero"..
She remains.. "The Other Woman"..