Two sides to every story,
Two sides to every face, more like.
The dripping charm that spills for your customers,
Like the brilliant gloss that oozes from its tin,
Dries up, like the summer clay in the garden.
Not cracks, but deep crevices.
Am I imagining this?
You would love that.
Still, my mind winds on.
Watching the clock,
Listening for the thud of your heavy footsteps
Feeling the thud of my now useless heart.
Engine stops,
Door slams,
Face at the window,
Key in the door.
