Hooker Poem

Her plump cherry lips curved into a smile.
Her bleach blond hair hung limp onto her shoulders
and her steal gray eyes stared out into the abyss.

Her tube top was dirty
her skirt was torn
and her stiletto heel was broken.

This was the life she didn't ask for
it wasn't the life she dreamed
standing on the corner hour after hour
in the cold, sometimes in the rain
waiting for the greasy old men to
pay her half of what she's worth.

She believes this is how her life has to be
with no other options
with her dreams and hopes long forgotten.
This is the hooker I have become
beautytakesatoll beautytakesatoll
18-21, F
1 Response Apr 22, 2011

I know that this probably is not about you, but you catch the grim, rainy atmosphere so well. Keep on writing girl! There's class here.