Bitter SweetSitting idly on a faded couch,
She parts her full lips, a gleam of desire sits in her aquamarine eyes.
Sipping from a chipped teacup, a china chalice, all that's left of her past.
Her legs cross, uncross repeatedly, she won't sit still, high black heels click clacking.
Late noon sun, streams through into her forgotten paradise, dust motes soar free on the draft from
the bay window with its rotting Venetian blinds.
A bedraggled old thing, perhaps once a cat sits purring in her lap, content.
Discoloured silver earrings hang from aged ears, and tinkle in the faint breeze.
Her once well fitting salmon drapery of a dress hangs from skeletal limbs,
And her heart grows weak with rust, but still pitter-patters in the silence.
She rises, bones creaking. "It's time to change the story." she whispers to herself.....