Hibiscus Sinensis

         She sits in the rocking chair, her firey hair spilling over her shoulders, gently pressing the soles of her feet against the wooden floor, causing the chair to sway slightly. Her eyes, a soft powder blue, gaze unblinkingly out the window.
           Rain patters softly against the pane. The droplets hit the glass rhythmically and slide downward. Her eyes follow their progress.
           I gaze at her, as only a woman loving another is able to gaze, devouring her with my lovers' stare.
           The dim overhead light hits her hair, causing it to glow like dying embers in a fire. Her long locks cascade over her shoulders, spilling onto her lap.
           It's warm in the shabby apartment we share, and her cheeks have taken on a rosey hue. Her pink-tinged lips are closed. The corners are downturned slightly, a small indication of her frustration.
           I lean over the armrest of the chair and press my lips softly against hers. It is not a kiss of passion; it is not a kiss of lust. It is a kiss of promise and understanding. I turn to walk away. Her voice, soft and fluttering, causes me pause.
           "When is it going to get better?" Even in despair, her voice is music to my ears. Caring for someone disguises all their faults and failures.
           "I'm trying, love," I say, remaining partway across the room, speaking barely above a whisper. "We both are."
           She turns to stare at me, her blue eyes piercing my very soul. I stare back for a moment before looking away, unable to hold her penetrating gaze.
           I feel her drop her eyes and return to the window. "I love you, you know," she says, her voice brushing a whisper, continuing her study of the rain.
           My heart fills, brimming with compassion and love for a friend I have known most of my life.
           "I know," I say, so quietly I'm unsure whether she even heard. It's not necessary for me to return the sentiment aloud. My love knows.
           I stand still for another moment, watching her as she watches the rain. When I feel I have had my fill of her beauty for the evening, I turn and walk soundlessly out the apartment and into the twilight.
           I pause outside the building, allowing the rain to soak me. I touch my hands lightly to the short skirt adorning my body, my stomach turning at the knowledge of what I must do.
           I proceed outwards into the night, towards the bars where the intoxicated men await. It is my job... the disillusion of a desperate woman making herself believe that she has no other option for herself and her love.