The elegant lady in pearls smelling of Chanel No. 5,
Walked into her doorman apartment on the Upper East Side.
When she walked in the building she felt the illusion of,
Completeness, and wholeness, but most of all, love.

She’ll hear her husband’s keys open the door in a few hours
With a big fake smile and some beautiful flowers.
Soon he would be whispering nice things in her ear,
That neither of them believe, but she still likes to hear.

Over seared tuna and asparagus they’ll make pleasant conversation,
But he’ll retire early to complete his presentation.
They have nothing of significance to say to each other anyway,
So instead of what they’re feeling they’ll discuss their busy days.

He’ll run his fingers through her bleached hair so she gets the chills,
And she’ll convince herself she’s happy because he pays her bills.
But she knows something’s missing; she tastes it in her mouth,
While her cheating husband sits, getting drunker on the couch.