Her Face ( 1st draft, a recent dream)

The room was busy
Like an old store
Eclectic, random, quiet.
She sat on a chair,
Vulnerable, young
And yet older.
Her beauty was complex
And manicured.
I leaned in and she said NO
Closer, and she said NO
Invasively, forcefully
She said No, but
I kissed her. That,
Changed everything.
The beauty slipped away
like mist burning off,
The face that remained was
Less, drained, stale,
As if that kiss had
Perished the soul within.
She spoke; I am infected
Vile, foul. Am I? I sigh
as I draw back with
Guilty egoistic remorse.
I awake; sickened and
Selfishly relieved.

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