Threadbare

The scent of cheap perfume

Pervades an overheated room.

She in her mini skirt

And too high heels.

He in t-shirt and jeans.

 

They play their scenes.

She loses skirt and heels

And feels

The threadbare carpet under her feet.

She wants to sleep …

 

Sometimes she weeps,

But not in front of them.

He sighs.

His fun is done.

Occasionally he cries,

Though not when they can see.

 

The same dance

Of no romance

Over and over again

To hide his pain.

 

She has a child to feed

Or perhaps some other need.

Sometimes  he wonders about them.

But they are free

As is he …

To choose …

 

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