Her hair feathered,

eyes blue doves

nestled in the hollows of her

cheekbones.

Lips swollen

from kissing ****** men.

An object,

love making of the disreputable kind;

of lust,

grime and creaking springs.

Comfort for one sleepless night.

Mouth red not from wine,

but blood.

She tilts her chin up to the sky

and marvels at how small she is,

insignificant.

And the clouds envelope her body

in an embrace so

tender;

Steadfast,

the only lover that comes without a

price.