She says – I love the look on your face when you realize
that roses don't mean a thing
from glamour boys like him –
Turns to the bathroom mirror and examines her
hair, melted amber in sweet caressing waves
eyes, green orbs of brilliance
and pouted sugar plum lips.
– What about glamour girls like you? – I ask.
her face contorts in a sadistic smile,
– Honey, don't hate me because I'm beautiful –
The look on her face is priceless when I answer
– Beautiful, don't hate me because I'm real –