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.
Copyright © Michelle Cloutier | Year Posted 2024
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