Everyone’s packing their bags
Last kisses, farewell blasts
Gone too fast.
Wake up to another morning
Dead petals, empty bottles
His smell won’t last.
She sits at a corner
Watching them pass
Giggles to echoes of laughter
A flashback of impulsive lust,
Some things are meant to be in your past.
Buses don’t stop, suburbean sun shades
She kicks at pebbles, dusty roadside cafes;
Dusk falls on a Sahara mirage
She won’t leave, she won’t give up.
Another cheap motel room,
A pint of booze to soak her covet,
Crushed paper, wrinkled pillows
She cries herself to sleep.
Sorrow is her only soulmate,
Playing violins to her unkempt desires.