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Domestic Desperation

Deep in middle suburbia

A common kind of madness

Has taken hold of my neighbour

Hallucinating a calculated temptation

The result of domestic desperation

Fanning the flames of her suspicions

Phantom femme fatales where there are none

Every innocent action is an act of seduction

Borne from long overdue adolescent frustration

But it’s only a figment of her imagination

There are no parted lips, painted like red liqourice

Paired with a white tennis skirt

Choreographing every noise you exert,

Words aren’t exchanged, in a hushed, seductive whisper

While draped in model swimwear glistening in chlorine water

With perfect shampoo commercial hair

Where everything you do paints a sensual picture

No there’s no open invitation

Or offer for uninterrupted gazing

We haven’t spoken but the glances I’ve stole

Through voile covered windows

Have told me all I need to know

From the salon curled hair in bottled gold

To the heel tipped shoes with the red sole

And a gaze that runs ice cold

The neighbour’s wife, seems like the type

To get jealous on sight, of any woman within a mile

Convinced they’re seeking out her husband’s eyes

Biding their time, whenever they look twice

But I’ve more love for this salty snack in my fingers

While thinking about men, who are no longer alive

To be wasting my time, looking over the fence lying in divide

And I’ve enough fantasies to keep me warm at night

To be thinking about something, to which I’m not inclined

When I’ve barely noticed you exist,

Merely a house that once lay empty now is filled

So you can keep your conversations to the windows and doors

As you gush to your friends, about the things you don’t want to say

I don’t need to hear, I wasn’t listening anyway

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