She lay in bed counting the minutes,
He was late, as usual, so much so
His lateness was an allure to her.
But today she had hoped for him to be on time,
And here he was, before she could call in vain.
Her eyes widened, in expectation of excitement and more.
She could no longer trust herself, to hold back or stay back.
The time was nigh, as was her time; and she had wasted little.
A paler band on his digit, that to her was old news.
Not that she cared either, for what she lost wasn’t lost on her.
She knew too, that she held equal blame for the loss.
Yet she had held on, for what she had left, for what time she had left.
Holding on to the littles, she also wanted to be held,
And he obliged. A welcome change to the hostilities of the recent.
A moment of weakness and he had fallen, another and he was prey.
Saddled upon horses two, he was a tired rider, and timid too.
He had his own road, yet destiny took him to twin destinations,
One a public façade to the private façade of the other.
He was true to neither, at both places an ideal pretender.
In moments lighter, he had committed to a life of together, twice.
Timidity and a lack of temerity were his folly, a fear to face what lay ahead.
And he had held back, hiding behind facades, true only to his fear.
Held back, she did, her feelings for him, for her folly lay, in feeling
For a man, utterly devoid of such emotions.
Gifted once, she was never willing to take herself back,
From denial and abuse and love unrequited.
A life shared was a distant dream, as distant life itself was getting.
She merely wanted her share of his time,
Unfair though it was to her that loved and loved so dear.
To look, love and languish in his company was her destiny.
Cheeks once vibrant now lay wasted and bone adorned.
Glowing they still were from the tears that flowed freely.
He took a kerchief to dab at them. No art could capture the irony
Wrought on her face as she found the initials on the piece of cloth.
A smile as she knew the name they stood for; the other woman.
A hint of the once lovely redness touched her lips, no more a sign of beauty.
Yet to him, it seemed so. For here was a sign of the end to his past folly.
Did he love her once, even if so long ago? We may never know.
What had she seen in him, she that deserved much more, for the beauty that lay
In flesh and beyond? For here was a man lacking all attributes of being one.
And yet had conquered the most womanly, the queenliest of ‘em all.
Perhaps that alone was enough. For her than for him.
As she gasped more than she breathed, the smile grew bigger, as did her tears.
The bliss she wanted all her life was hers to have, but all her life had been to lose.
She had lost in love, lost her love, lost a race she never ran.
She that was hailed a beauty was now a whore to those that lost.
As images of users and abusers flashed past her, she heard her last word.
“Cut!” voiced the Director and she was abandoned.
No more to be coddled and cuddled, she lay wasted, as did her life.
He would now gladly remove the ring from his pocket where it lay hidden.
And wear it proudly, as he thought it deserved to be worn.
No longer was one of the facades necessary and the other he shall bother about later.
As he turned to leave, he had one last look at her, he shall return here no more.
Was it her tears on his face or were they his? Were they those of the glutton,
Pitying the dead goat on his table? Before he fell to commit another folly,
He left the lamb on the sacrificial altar, alone to take its last Journey; and departed
To ascend upon the cross, the crossroads of life that lay before him.
