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Date Posted: 13:26:17 08/11/02 Sun
Author: Guardian
Author Host/IP: NoHost / 203.154.206.18
Subject: A Flee From What Is Left.

A Flee From What Is Left.

Is it her alter ego flashing through the streets,
in hot pursuit, to find the lead that sets her free,
seemingly to others, the itch for second childhood treats,
is actually stacked frustration, that makes her flee.

In between the staccato of her six inch heels,
whispers the rustle of her silken bravery,
flamboyant in lurid contrast, step's rasping reels,
as if ten passes behind herself raps timidity.

Not being clothed as usual is what she feels,
her gown provocatively dressing as second skin,
embracing her gorgeous lines from head to heels,
as it enhances her figure to perfectly slim.

Greedy eyes blindly stare at what isn't there,
casting ignorant lust, a too heavy burden to bear,
almost crushing the delicate fragility of her soul,
slowly suffocating her ability of finding her goal.

The waning awareness beside her tires her strides,
slowly hollows the treasured vows she once made,
until she realizes that it petrifies her prides,
decaying to sheer nothing, no harder price she paid.

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