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The A.W.

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She glances at him from beneath her lashes…
Pouts her lips like she is blowing ashes…
She wills him to look at her…
Wills him a heart attack…
Anything that will make him pause…
And look her in the eyes like he needs her without remorse…
She thinks of the other men, an abandoned lot…
And wonders how they became her opportunity cost…
The man she chose seems to live life on his toes…
Barely aware of the waif in his care…
Oh how she longs to be looked upon with admiration…
And spoilt and ravished with much adoration…
Treated like a queen…
And allowed to preen…
She doesn’t ask for anything more…
But to be celebrated and complimented till lips are sore…
Treat her right, respect her, don’t let it be a chore…
For she is none other than the attention whore…

THE END

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Posted by on December 12, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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