Bad Company

To the lonely she is whoever they need her to be. She survives off of the gifts that they shower over her. Her talent is to be a silhouette on which we can paint our shadows. I pay in labor, by doing the practical things she never had to learn and in turn she is the abyss into which I throw my darkest secrets. She listens with eyes of incomprehension to the woes of responsibility that she has never had to accept. She belongs to everyone and no one in her aluminum castle. she will tell you that mysterious and unexplained illnesses keep her from steady employment and anything else to arouse your sympathy. She is a chameleon of attitudes and beliefs with bohemian sensibilities and loyalty to no specific doctrine. She digs for the roots of your ancient buried pain with promises to heal, but it’s a facade. She is no more capable of saving you than she is of saving herself. One day her beauty will fade, her charms will wear thin and the line of suitors will wander. In old age she will be like an orphaned child, powerless to the forces surrounding her with no understanding of how the world works.