ON THE LINE

(These lInes were provoked by a photo of a girl sitting on her siuitacse besides a railway line)
She got there when love had gone, leaving a disturbance in the air and a very faint aroma of something hot having passed.
She'd tumbled her hopes into a case, sitting on the lid, and her lipstick's fresh to greet her lover's kiss, but not on that sweet mouth will it make its mark.
So here she sits, in her head an emptiness where he should have been; in her eyes a look of loss and in her ears the sound of breezes weeping in the grass,
Loneliness is clawing out the substance of her life, and here she waits should love return, but sure it never will.