solitaire, such a fateful game

she turns her cards and writes her name on the napkin

mow she turns another card

she dreams about the house and romance

he promised but won't deliver



she waits alone

with dried out hopes

and dormant phone

she waits for years

and fantasies melt

new ones appear

but they won't help



and again she catches him

eye pulls away with light too dim

she calls his name and runs around

but he was faster

all alone in a bad part of town



she waits again

with dried out hopes

and things made for him

a little ride, a little fun was all

he held her tight, got tired and then let go



the strain on her heart

she believed a lying blackheart

painted with promises

then he left her on the floor

with only the mirror to curse

"should've known better"

but how she cried...



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Typed by Lloyd Murray

lam6057@isc.rit.edu