She weeps each night knowing fully well that his meetings are lies, he is in the arms of another woman. How did she end up here? How did she get lost on the way to true love? Was the success ever a curse? She ponders each night while another woman rides her man.

From the beginning, she was there, she watched him flourish, he became a man under her care and guidance but it is all gone now, the love diminishes with each alert. She has become a thing of scorn, a person to be avoided because she simply is not good enough.
She begins to wonder if at all the blame is totally his. She saw the signs, she saw the cracks, but her personal demons took over, she only wanted to be a lover, not minding if the impurities in her gold needed the heat for purifying.

He saw it, those demons, her vanity, her indecision, not willing to make a move, silently becoming a zombie to her own pain. She knew she could have stopped him at the early stage, she allowed him play out his pride, not just that, she helped him get lost on a journey to what was supposed to be self discovery.

Now this has indeed become the tale of the housewife versus the harlot. Just that in this case, the harlots are numerous, circling her man like Vultures waiting on a carcass to devour.
Of course they are Vultures, but she has trapped herself in an endless circle of weakness and indecision. He will change is what she uses to put herself to sleep each night. While she hopes, he moves onto another victim, using the tools of seduction a man has:

• A sweet tongue
• An able wallet
• A dick

But then, could he have all those? Maybe it was the wallet and tongue that did it all. But the truth is to the woman who is in love, even a sadist seems like the best person to her. She offered him warmth during his cold days and now he has gone to do the dance of arrival with his numerous concubines that only she manages not to know.

She is exposed to her own dance, the dance of shame, a dance where the lady who hugs her during the day, sleeps with her man at night. But then can we personalize such a man? He is what we call the community's man because he is not willing to share her home with her, her favorite song has become the song of sorrow.

While she sits and weeps at the window for her man to return, another girl is holding the window while he does the work from behind. To him, she is his past probably a relic from a deleted timeline. She is the person who he is ashamed to be seen with but then he forgets that she was proud of him when he was a shame to others.
It is a shame, she is slipping away, when he would discover, the love she was offering him would then belong to another man who thinks of nothing else than she being between his arms.

The truth is that it is only a matter of time and time has indeed begun ticking. She might be weeping today for him, tomorrow, he'll cry a river when he realizes he lost everything while looking for nothing. Slowly but steadily, she's rising from the ashes, watching, learning, listening and when she'll strike, he'll be the man who will be brought to his knees by the woman he never believed had it in her.

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