Her hand is on her stomach, like a prayer.
And though she knows exactly what he thinks,
She turns her head to meet him in a stare.
His skin is pale, he's clearly on the brink
Of falling down this ugly flight of stairs.
She tries to hold his gaze – she doesn't blink –
The tension in her eyes like warning flares.
His mouth is red, like hers. He reeks of drink.
She knows just where he's been, and doesn't care.
She wanted him to catch her, dressed in pink,
Discovering the secrets that she bears.
Deception is a game best played in pairs;
And nothing kills a marriage like despair.
|Untitled Film Still #3 - Cindy Sherman|