A Little Mistaken Sympathy

The tittle-tattle times have left behind nothing but a dream
A little mistaken sympathy has nothing to do in the meantime
Her mind has been wracked by some misguided facts
An old friend has sold her
A small understanding, a "that's it" statement
From a girl lover who can pretend the world is like this
.

All this for a kiss in the dark
That leaves her in the park and crying
Her sighing in bed as she dreams of the sex she could be
Her trembling knee as her friend finds the key to her youth
All this for the proof of a delicate scene in a harem
Her fragility lies in the thoughts, not the thighs of her lover
.

A little mistaken sympathy is all she has left of the past times
Some rhymes she remembers a drunkard had told her at last
She cries in the moment, her passion dies as she thinks of him
Her friend raises her head at the foot of the bed and smiles
"I'd like a child" she whispers, as her friend wipes her lips of the issue
A dilemma of old but nothing a cold shower can't do
.

A glimpse of the past reveals the last sin that she knew
She is left with the clue of a young poet's words
A way he had shown her
She curls in the arms of her lover's feminine charms and remembers
It's all very nice but it isn't quite right she feels
There's something she misses
That all her lover's caresses can't heal
.

It's not the coarseness of man
Nor is it the dynamic tour-de-force of a man she's mislaid
She had paid for her appeal, with some zeal, at the male alter
It taught her the way she is now
It's the energy she laments
The creative power that meant she could yield
.

A little mistaken sympathy is only the compromise
She can't hide the way that she feels
She has tears in her eyes as the girl beside her denies her a word
And some forgotten phrase a poet had made
Could reveal her absurd discontent
"I've made love with more girls like you than men," his bitter comment
"But then fashion dictates" he says
She hates what he means but he seems to have been here before
.

Her friend sighs in resignation
At the doubt in the young woman's eyes
She knows of the French Café assignation that disturbs with its lies
It hurts to feel the hesitation in the hand on her skin
The harlequin dances on their libidinous whim
A secret sexual pantomime as the mannequin dies
It hurts to feel the way her body shivers as she cries doubt on the pillow
The ladies boudoir is empty they say
.