Three of a kind

When your day starts in a surgery looking for an excuse, you know things are going strangely your way.

The first stop is for the rental car
The second is to fill the tank.

Driving to the first appointment of the day; the coquette.
Pink lipstick, bright as fluorescence.
The tint reveals all to the outside world as she leaves the stage.

Next, the girl in love. Is she a pawn or the true heroine of this piece?
Nothing has been revealed yet, one way or the other.
I still think that she will be the death of me
But what a cool death that would be.

Finally, the unrequited. It's not love, it never will be. It's not need either.
Perhaps the ultimate symbol of my selfishness, because she knows that the choice is hers.
Nothing to gain from a tryst, nothing to lose but herself.
When the moon rises she feels the heat of the desert mixed with the moisture of the rain.
But when the sun comes up the next day there's guilt for wanting to try me.

Three of a kind, the next deserving of one more line than the girl who went before.