When Days End

She sat in the living room,

feet propped on the coffee table

cloudy smudges on the glass

she cleaned earlier.

It was Saturday,

the day she always took off,

hoping that her false doctors visits

wouldn’t become an evident lie,

if they did she already prepared herself

for the walk of shame out of her office.

Saturday after Saturday,

she cuddled on her couch,

pillow smothering the tales of the affair

her lips had last night,

a constant reminder that she couldn’t control

the impulses, the cravings, or the desire

to mount herself on top of a man,

becoming the dominant one,

yet allowing her confidence to fall

in the crevices of the sheets while

he controlled her body from the inside out.

Fridays were the nights she wished for.

Two hours to get ready,

everything must be perfect.

Sexy lingerie, seamless,

a short black dress, devious,

and pumps to make every curve

in her body stand out a little more.

Hair in a high bun,

she read it was sexier than being down,

last seasons rouge lipstick

thick black liner to accentuate her eyes,

she was  ready.