Fallen Angel

She's a beautiful disaster the morning after, master of the walk of shame. Genius at this game, if there were a hall of fame, she'd be the next inductee. A mesmerizing disgrace as mascara and eye liner run down her face, yet she still manages to look lovely. Beyond and above thee although she still wears last night's clothes. Everyone knows what she's done but she holds her nose high, sporting her crumpled attire with pride. Though she can hear the whispers of her peers, she never breaks her stride. Fallen angel as her mind floods of imagines of her, him, sheets tangled, hair mangled in his hands, just a participant in her one night stand. Her bed ridden hair generates multiple stares tell that she'd gone for a ride, not that she'd dare deny. This wolf cries no lies, neither does she try to disguise what she has done as she marches bravely towards her room.