Lonesome rose,

She’s lounging in

A  coke bottle,

In a withering way.

I see her draw

Up her limbs as if

To yawn, but

Hold them there

 suspended

Between the empty

Moments and

Requited banter.

She’s waiting for

Someone  to say

“Cut.”

“That’s  a wrap.”

“And we’re out.”

And as daintily as she once plopped into

This world,

 She’ll negligently drops her standards

And end her place.