She sits there in the dimly lit coffee house, sipping on a chilled coffee that’s filled to the brim with creamy whipped topping. Soft cinnamon colored pin curls barely touching the collar of her brightly colored wool sweater. Melodic sounds of Louie Armstrong and Ella Fitzgereld fill the silence. From the outside she looks inviting. Someone you might want get to know. Cheeks rosy pink, a smile that goes on for miles and a kindness that is welcoming. But on the inside she wonders how she’s fooled so many people for so long. Because on the inside she is nothing but a hollow shell. She’s completely empty…and doesn’t know why. Slowly she’s become apathetic and lethargic towards life. She desires to be who she sees on the outside. A woman whose confident of herself and can smile with meaning.
As Louie croons on she allows her senses to be immersed in the atmosphere. She lets herself feel beautiful, to not have a care in the world. No deadlines, no day to day duties-just one ongoing night filled with magic and ecstasy. She closes her eyes and she’s whisked on to the floor and is as elegant as Grace Kelly. Following the steps of a seemingly nameless face, she just melts. Glides.
Walking the streets of New York, her form fitting pencil skirt teases her legs. Her baby doll stiletto’s hit and miss the puddles as the rain comes falling down. The street lights come on and light her path.
Finally she’s home, a snug one room apartment. She throws on a record and hops in the shower. She wails along with the music…no judgement, no leering glances-just music. She can be herself and just allow the music to flow. She lets go finally and is vulnerable. Something she’d never dare let anyone see. Smile has faded and tears have taken their place.
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