Her shaken hands, moist with rain water,
Trickling from the strands of hair
hung over her face.
Covering the entrance to her soul.
Her eyes.
Glistening,
Ridden with thoughts of harm and stress.
Her thighs, tattooed with blue bruises
From last weeks encounter
With the devil of her universe.
Her jumper barely covers her unmentionables.
The folds in the wool,
Like waves of controlled anger.
She’s searching.
Searching for a place to hang up
Her insecurities,
A coat hook just won’t do the job.
Never has anybody seen
Such a shell of a person.
With each client,
With each sickening kiss,
With each slap,
She loses another part of herself
It won’t be long before she’s face to face
With a demon,
Strong enough to crush that shell.
You figure it out.
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 9:56 AM UTC