artistforlife311

Lonesome She sits alone as she does every morning in summers bloom. When she wakes, nothing there, no one to wake her in her room. Life in all-purpose is civilized and convenient for her and for most. She stretches…rotating the muscles and bones in her frame. She stares through her beauty in the mirror, sinking her head downward in shame. Tears of fault and remorse fill her glass white eyes…not a drop finds itself drooping down the cheek. The muscles in her face start to alter… Eyebrows curl…wrinkles form themselves upon her youthful forehead… Nostrils flutter and start running and links to her trembling lips