A Pale Face in the Window

The rocking chair has rocked half a million times,
She has paced nearly three times that,
Waiting....
Wondering....
Love is not supposed to be like this,
No fairy tale ends this way,
There were once flowers, chocolates and an endless supply of kisses,
What happened to the heart that had so graciously showered such affection onto her?
Somehow it died, but the shell of the man it belongs to remains animated,
Not unlike a zombie, a walking corpse,
She does not believe that she has changed,
What then...?
What has happened? she wonders. What have I done?
She stares out at the corner street lamp,
There seems to be no life under it,
She notices a light on in the apartment across the street,
A woman is peering out from that light,
A pale face in the window,
An expectant expression, not unlike her own,
The reflection of her neighbor vexes her so,
And together, they think, in their duality:
What has happened? What have I done?