Biscuits and Lies
by Suzy Nelson
Novella was hot.
A new dyed updo, crimson lips hugging
teeth this big.
Novella.
Saturday night's
push-up bra-ed,
black stilettoed predator.
Sunday morning,
back from the land of cheap enchantment
she breakfasts alone.
Chewing
a cold hard biscuit.
Feeling
a cold hard loneliness,
Wishing she'd remembered
to pick up some coffee.
Yes, hot coffee would have been good.
Next time things would be different
she'd have more standards
more respect for herself.
That was a promise.
She pulls sweats
over prickly legs
and curls up
blanketing herself with
Scarlet O'Hara.
For now, losing touch with
an empty life
garishly studded
with empty promises.
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