She leaves the warm water <br />running in the cold porcelain sink <br />as she scrubs the Night's secrets <br />from her lying painted face. <br />Her lipstick is smeared <br />by temptations far too great <br />in times of confessions, like these <br />she promises you things <br />which she can never keep. <br />With her insatiable appetite <br />for excitable passion <br />she has little control <br />over anything that happens. <br />And you! You big weenie <br />All you can do is roll over and fall asleep <br />content in your denial that she would ever leave___ <br /> <br /> <br />Copyright (C) 2007 Ted Sheridan<br /><br />Ted Sheridan<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/soap-on-a-rope/
