The tears rolled down your china doll face
as the dust drifted through a sliver of light
that came flickering from that old neon sign across the street.
The pastel wallpaper, peeling away from the walls
showing nothing but the rotting wood of a dilapidated building.
The smell of mildew wafting from the bathroom leaving you nothing to
look forward to except the next drip from the leaky faucet.
How had your life come to this?
All of those teenage dreams.
All those fantasies of love and adventurous living.
Those notions of being an artist and revolutionary.
Nothing but the taste of bitter coffee and broken cigarettes lingers
at every meal.
A love gone sour.
Your beauty far exceeding conventional standards.
That perfect 10.
Wasted here in a dingy motel.
Longing for that one last kiss.
Waiting for him to make you feel young again.
As you yourself become part of this place,
realizing that you are decaying just the same.