she welcomes you in.
takes your coat with a half-hearted smile,
though she wants to mean it.
her place is a good-lit yellow
fit for warmer crowds, should she
ever choose company over meticulous ways.
a far-gone beauty she is,
and every second you spend beneath her
drives you further in to your own kind of
personal hell, as most anything you say
could upset the balance she's created for herself.
one wrong word, and it could mean your life.
you make your way through this sterile paradise
picking up on lost emotions peppered with a deja vu
only dreams can suffice, almost colder even as
the bright lights beat down on your clothing
and as you finally sit down
across from her: you lower your head
knowing as much as the two of you
could love eachother, to a frightly degree that
is unknown in this city on the hill.
you never could be happy with her.
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