Elegance

Familiar structures rise, despised
But always growing, evolving, creating
Environments consistently uninspired and uniform
Yet comforting in their monotony

She sits, at the desk, by the door
Near the window, with a mirror
Daubing the thin paint across her narrow lips
She will taste flesh tonight, as her pores fill with dust

She bought it, she’s worth it
He buys it, the best a man can get
He stands, it strokes across his chin
A thin line of bare skin shines through

Their eyes meet, finding a mate at the fifth time of asking
Wandering, tracing, grinding across each other’s frames
His breath hot in her ears, her hand in his
Montague and Capulet, or a new kind of whore, no one ever wins

The facade falls
The silk and lace lay on the floor
The mask hangs nonchalantly off the bed post
Now we see what sits beneath it all

Lies, smoke, mirrors and a young man’s heart
All crashing, cracking, crushed under foot
Stripped bare, bones and hair
The sweat sticks to the skin, it begins

Life bursts forth from busy lips
The midwife sighs, it begins

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