She gave it all including her self.
To savor something of an art.
Just to get a closer look she tore the page's of her book apart now and then and
stuffed them into the crack in the wall.

You could hear her crying screams from across the hall. Refusing to believe she completely lost the ball. Having everything, she had nothing because she still doesn't have him.
That winning shot that filled her belly with flames. Her glass so full it's to the rim.
But she can't stop thinking about how he held his forehead under the brim.
Wishing she could stop.
This is all she ever ponders.

Walking from the bathroom to the kitchen sink and back again.
She won't give up.
Repeating another day now in a different way.
She greets his ghost.
This chill is a freezing roast.
Never having ever felt such a hot cold.
There's fear.
In his prison she's never been freer.

Independent and on her own.
She makes changes and no one's scorn.
Yet there's a spirit and he spy's and he ties to her.
Who knew that any one would buy in for her.

She's his investment and he's all in.
He is benevolent.
With out a second thought she gives in to sin.