#59: Endless Counterfeits

She spoke of love as if it had died,


Swaying her hips to cocktail drips,

She was rich in sorrow,

Offering everything she had,

I watched as she married and remarried,

The idea of finding herself,


She walked the streets with no map,

Pointing out every corner and every junction that had stolen from her,

Her breath still smelled of her last lover,

Tormented her eyes fought to conceal the pain of a young girl,

But her pain echoed,

Set up camp in the hallow eyes of a woman who no longer believed,

And dared anyone to break in,


She scoffed at her fortune,

Cursed her cards

And begged to die,


I sat back and watched helplessly

As beauty and tragedy danced so beautifully,

She was just one of many

Victim of loves many imposters


Into the night she crawled,

I bowed my head,

And silently cried


She was not the first,

And sadly, would not be the last



Another lost,

To Loves endless counterfeits.


©Aisha-Nicole 2014

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