Whispers follow her down the hallway.

She tries to tune out the words

That are threatening to engulf her in a sea of sound.

She  walks on but  silent stares that speak volumes

Follow her wherever she goes.

She is an apple that has fell from the top of the tree

To the cold hard ground,

All  because of one night.

Meanwhile, he is hailed like a king

By his fellow males

For rising from rags to riches

All in one night.

He is as pure as gold

While she is as sordid as the

Dirt beneath their feet…

For doing the very same thing

He did.

She tries to paint over the dark spots

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