The best (edited mainly for the last stanza)

The rude awakening. Her hand slams down on the button.

An hour to the second: styled straightened hair, blush in place, and flawless ensemble.

Strapped heels on, she marches out of her carpeted living room.

“Non-fat iced coffee, please” As usual, the barista winks at her.

Enveloped by the crowds, she briskly paces, anxiously nibbling at her nails.

8:30- not a second later, she waves cheerfully to the guard.

She is never late, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

The time has come. Twenty pairs of beady eyes stare with anticipation.

A week of long sleepless, caffeine filled, computer screen lit nights.

She takes her place at the head, sweat dripping down her back.

“Thank you for all coming”, she finally begins to speak.

Her legs quiver as she impeccably delivers her proposal.

Nods of approval throughout, and a round of applause at the closing.

Drained, she flashes a short-lived smile

She is never unsuccessful, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

6 PM. As expected, her phone rings as she logs off her computer.

“I’d love to see you. Can I pick you up at 7?”

A romantic candle lit dinner for two.

She picks at the greens on her plate, choosing the iced water instead.

Avoiding his gaze, she inquires about his day.

He looks at her with questioning eyes, searching for answers.

She grabs his hand, forcing a laugh as he holds her close.

She is never upset, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

It's way too late. The slam of the door, her hand shuts the wood behind her.

Raw swollen toes, hair at all odds, mascara running, wrinkled button down.

The emptiness of the room startles her.

She turns on the television, a weather report to calm her nerves.

Mind still racing, she crumples into her bed.

A dog barks, the sirens wail, and the drunkards celebrate down on the street.

Inside? Silence. Only her thoughts to keep her company.

They expect the best.

The rude awakening. Her hand slams down on the button.

An hour to the second: styled straightened hair, blush in place, and flawless ensemble.

Strapped heels on, she marches out of her carpeted living room.

“Non-fat iced coffee, please” As usual, the barista winks at her.

Enveloped by the crowds, she briskly paces, anxiously nibbling at her nails.

8:30- not a second later, she waves cheerfully to the guard.

She is never late, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

The time has come. Twenty pairs of beady eyes stare with anticipation.

A week of long sleepless, caffeine filled, computer screen lit nights.

She takes her place at the head, sweat dripping down her back.

“Thank you for all coming”, she finally begins to speak.

Her legs quiver as she impeccably delivers her proposal.

Nods of approval throughout, and a round of applause at the closing.

Drained, she flashes a short-lived smile

She is never unsuccessful, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

6 PM. As expected, her phone rings as she logs off her computer.

“I’d love to see you. Can I pick you up at 7?”

A romantic candle lit dinner for two. Can a girl ask for more?

She picks at the greens on her plate, choosing the iced water instead.

Avoiding his gaze, she inquires about his day.

He looks at her with questioning eyes, searching for answers.

She grabs his hand, forcing a laugh as he holds her close.

She is never upset, she can’t be.

They expect the best.

The slam of the door, her hand shuts the wood behind her.

Raw swollen toes, hair at all odds, mascara running, wrinkled button down.

Can I be late?

Can I be unsuccessful?

Can I be upset?

A dog barks, the sirens wail, and the drunkards celebrate down on the street.

Inside? Silence. Only her thoughts to keep her company.

They expect the best.

But is she?

Edited for iambic pentameter: (Shakespeare sonnet)

I never walk to close to the sideline.

Lost in the vast crowds, I am just a sweat. 

The tourists flock ahead, they all combine.

The man in white, now stares at me with threat.

Each car, a devil so filled up with hate. 

Each little rover seems to be an ant.

One man, briefcase in hand, waves it as bait

As it stops, he gets in with a large pant.

 5...4...The red hand seems to count down fast.

The lights seem as if not in my favor.

Now I can breathe when all the haste has passed.

Bracing myself, I smell the strong flavor

I lie and order iced coffee for two.

Her eyes are all I see in this cold brew

Coffee anyone?

 I never amble too close to the outskirts of the sidewalk.

 Blanketed by the crowds, I sweat approaching the bend.

 Stalling, I allow even the tourists to surge ahead in a flock.

 The once familiar man in white, now the means to an end.

Every car, a menacing devil. Every driver, unaware of his power.

And every pedestrian, a victim, surviving like an ant.

One suited culprit, briefcase in hand, hails a bright yellow monster.

It roars to a stop, gravel spits as he scurries in with a pant.

5…4…3… A face-off against the red threatening hand.

The lights mock me, as if finally satisfied.

My breaths stabilize when I successfully reach the mainland.

Bracing myself and embracing the potent smell, I traipse inside. 

Ignoring the usual waves, l lie and order iced coffee for two

The brownness of her eyes is all I can see in the cold brew.

Experience.

Different religious, cultural, educational. 

combines to shape beliefs.

Essential

Roommates upon moving 

communicate openly with one another.

No pre-conceived expectations.

Negotiating rules.

It is imperative the topic is discussed.

Conversation is crucial.

Met for the first time

or

your best friends.

No assumptions made.

Conversation evolving.

New situations arise.

Commitment to a positive tone.

Crucial for any difficult topic.

Speak calmly, directly, and honestly.

Understanding perspectives.

Help and support.

Conquer the monster (revised accordingly)

Feet barely stretching toward the three golden toes.

Tears dying to plunge to the claws below.

A stinging bite.

Another.

Another.

The melody is being eaten away as the

clouded blue eyes beg for a breath.

Goosebumps.

The black and white teeth cackle.

The dark body towers over, shiny with sweat.

A dedicated soul approaches the creature.

Rachmaninoff's devils’ confident in their conniving schemes.

Abominable mutations black in color.

A fierce unsettling encounter entails.

88 teeth.

A set of paws, one on either side.

One damp lace shirt.

A lingering scent of deodorant.

Clear blue eyes size up the behemoth.

Striking chords.

A Yell.

Another.

Another.

A final stab.

The monster has been slayed.

Feet barely stretching toward the three perfectly aligned golden pedals.

Tears dying to plunge to their demise

A dissonant note.

another.

another.

The melody is lost,

clouded blue eyes begging for a break

“We’ll be here till you get this line”

Her skin has seen many years.

The black and white stripes laugh.

A dedicated soldier approaches her opponent.

Rachmaninoff's creatures’ confident in their strengths.

Intricate passages blacken the page.

A fierce unsettling encounter entails.

88 keys.

A set of weapons, one on either side.

One damp lace shirt.

A lingering scent of deodorant.

Clear blue eyes scan the battlefield.

Striking chords.

A final stab.

The monster has been slayed.

The solider saunters off. 

The Return (updated)

A regular sweltering day in my urban Texas

home.
The distant reverberation of the

garage door opening. 
The unmade bed

is back, even if for a fleeting moment.

I sit alone in my room and leaf through my books restlessly,
I hear my mother on the phone, "happy you landed"
Pondering if time will pass, it seems to lapse endlessly,
Patience expires like the words on my pages, I can't stand it.

I have been meticulously counting down these days

since the last visit. Craving that tangent smell

and contagious smile.

She gracefully walks through the door.

I prance towards her,

jumping into her arms. I no longer aimlessly

leaf through the book alone.

A regular sweltering day in my urban Texas

home.
The distant sound of the

garage door opening. 
The unmade bed

is back, even if only for a fleeting moment.

The Return

A regular sweltering day in my urban Texas

home.The distant sound of the

garage door opening. The unmade bed

is back, even if for a fleeting moment.

I sit in my room and leaf restlessly

through a book. I endlessly ponder

if the time will pass. I hear my mother 

on the phone- “happy you landed!”

I grow increasingly impatient. I have been

meticulously counting down these days

since the last visit. craving that familiar smell

and contagious smile.

She gracefully walks through the door.

I prance towards her,

jumping into her arms. I no longer aimlessly

leaf through the book alone.

A regular sweltering day in my urban Texas

home.The distant sound of the

garage door opening. The unmade bed

is back, even if only for a fleeting moment.