Sitting home,

Alone,

Again,

It's just the same old story,

He told you to get ready.

He's got somewhere real nice to take you.

So you bathe in rich waters and perfumes,

Adorn yourself in precious metals and jewels,

Paint a pretty picture with foundations, lip gloss, and mascara,

Clothe yourself in garments to reveal the woman you've become,

Only to watch your earnest expectations meet their demise.

He never showed; said something came up and he wouldn't be able to make it.

It's happened so much now that you don't even shed a tear.

You just shed layers of your exterior to the sheer negligee and lay on top of the bed you made previously.

It's only a matter of time before he comes through,

With a gift of some sort and an excuse,

Explaining how sorry he is and how one day he is going to leave her.

You politely smile and say, "I know,"

As you see his clothes drop to the floor,

It has begun.

Syncopated rhythms connected to well-placed breaths,

It's tantric-it's electric,

Sets all your senses on fire.

Burning all past transgressions down to the ground until you make it rain.

After the hurricane, he leaves just as quickly as he came.

Leaving you...

Sitting home,

Alone,

Again,