I dont know why I wrote this

Stress rubbed off from a day of lacking joy.
Career's so often unwanted are the only ones available
in this fast moving time. A line of discontent trails her,
and a dark cloud looms over her hairdo- so unfashionable.
Only one spark of happiness can conclude her angst-
her lover, waiting at home to suppress her anger.
She wanders in a path through her mind, to wine glasses
slowly filled with red bitter-sweet liquid, clinking together.
Velvet high heels click against the modern sidewalk- the occasional
black dot of rotted gum guarding the pavement from her spikes.
She reaches into her change purse, bringing out a coin,
as the bus pulls up. Finally, something has gone right.
The bus is full of sweating and grubby people, all
coming back from their jobs. All radiate a sense of lonliness.
But not her, she is with someone- and ready to be serenaded
by his gentle, soothing voice- despite her homliness.
Her mind once again is dripping into a rain of hopeless romance-
a thought of the cold moon shining down on their faces.
The wind's breeze caressing their skin as they dance with such heat-
that the cold is inviting. They would not rather be in any other place.
The bus halts to a stop, and the shuffling feet create a soundtrack-
complete with the murmers of young men and woman, and the squeal
of the creaking bus doors opening. As she shuffles along with the crowd,
she finds herself back onto the pavement. A mud slick splashes from under the wheel.
Covered in a mess of black and brown dirt- she once again ignores.
Her love won't mind. The imagination bites again- and she finds herself
dreaming of a candle lit bath. Bubbles and oils and incense- a dream.
They'll use every cleansing, comforting item on the shelves.
Round the corner. The clouds press together- the weight of percipitation
to much. It falls to the ground, showering the earth in it's light, cooling spray.
Her make up runs. He will not care, she decides. The black and red paints
flow down her face. Not one cruel word will he decide to say.
The corner turns. She follows the path to her house- wind blows through
her open coat. A button pops off. She smiles, thinking once more of him.
He will hold her, and never let go. The coldness will leave. He wont let her
shiver in such a way. She grabs hold of the golden handle. The hallway is dim.
"I'm home." She cries, and runs to the cellar. Maybe he's there,
picking out the best seller?
She bolts back upstairs. What a mess she is, dripping herself on the floor.
He's still at his office... held back late. She grins. Then she will get ready for he.
She slowly acends the stairway, all of her thoughts in her mind. Open the bedroom door.
He's there. He's in bed. His clothes are scattered on the floor. But he is not with she.
"Oh lord..." Though praying won't do her good now. She's gone. She's crazy.
She's insane. She screams, as they hold the sheets. His words dont matter.
"It isnt what it looks like!" He insists. The woman tries to hide. What a pety attempt.
She screams more. They hide. She grabs a bottle from the dresser. It's liquor.
She throws it, and breaks it. "I'm gone now. It's over."
Out the door. Down the streeet. Not looking back at all. Not even a glimpse over her shoulder.
Without thinking, she runs into a bar. It's warmth, shelter. She can drink away her worries
and deepen her insanity. She puts her head down on the counter and sobs until the waiter
offers her a drink. A voice picks up the order. "I'll pay for that." She turns around, her stomach in flurries.
Not a man. But a woman. Her boss. What's going on? She looks down at herself.
This is horrid. Now her boss would see her. Her sobs rack harder through her ribs and up her throat,
she's spitting it up like vomit. Her boss sits attentivly, as if listening to a speech. Finally, she stops
sobbing. "He left me. He didn't even tell me. He wouldn't have told me. And I just found out."
Her boss holds her hand and hugs her close. "Don't think about it." "How can I not?
He was everything. He was everyone. He was all." Her boss smiles. "Men...
Men and love. They slip around you, their unctious cries dissolve your sense of everything.
What's a thing like that compared to someone like a friend?"

I don't know why I wrote that.

Thats ace!

Thats tight. It could be a monologue.