Second hand serenades
enraged; she slit the tomato in half.
she should've known better.
it had all been too good to be true.
The sky was too bright a blue.
birds sang too happily
children laughed all the more
lovers held hands and gave knowing smiles
All the while she sat in the cold December.
as frigid as it was, it was long since the plain Jane had felt anything, whether it be emotional or physical.
Tears stinging bloodshot eyes
she sang so sweetly one might have forgotten her ugliness.
