I have never touched an iron before,
and the dust collects upon my breast.
Every blond lock of hair is accounted for, my crown and glory.
So still upon the rug I lay,
as my reflection dances above me.
I listen as the footsteps get closer and closer…
Reaching into my handbag
I fumble for the ruby lipstick;
as the rain falls so heavy against the windows.
The park benches are wet,
but I don’t need them tonight
so I don’t care.