The Harlet

The secret you can’t talk about the one no one can know All the promised time but yet she waits and you don’t show You lay in her bed after a deed has been done Never have you stayed until the morning sun She trusts you’ll be different, hoping against hope that this time it’s true As always though she learns to late that you see it from a different point of view She daydreams of her king While she waits like a peasant For a message or a text that will bring her back to the present She waits for him at the door with great anticipation She wants to talk but it’s always a different form of communication He leaves to go back to his real life His job his kids his wife You can’t help who you love right Forever in the dark never in the light She is the secret She is the harlet And I am she.