Food and words, don't end hunger

 Some mornings are bright
Only a chore too that bites a tad
She lay awoke
Mulling at her gnawing mind
The crimpled wedding saree from 5 year fore
And her bangles now broken into shards
She smiled at her bruised wrist
Tattooed in bruises of strong arms
A night off the inhibitions, she thought
In the arms of her old lover
Now the pillows like her forehead
And not her conscience
Are tainted in maroon, smudged
She sat to the edge of the bed
Smirked at her disposition
What all could she be called today
A wayward, stray, lustful, but a woman
Under psychotropics and flowing beer
She need not
Nor will she be bothered
Words and food don’t
Feed her hunger
Like her random visitor.