Thursday, January 6, 2011
She struts down the alley way deep into the night, searching for fools to have.
Seductive. A leather dress is compacted to her body and her six inch heels click on the side walk. Piercing eyes and wild hair, they draw the audience into her den. Her laugh is cool trickling water, sending shivers down their spines.
Are there any questions?
She’s a whore, by trade. She devours lonely men and afterwards her hunger only increases. She is discontent, loud and her words flow like a leaf in the river.
Don’t you know, how whenever she’s within your sight, you can’t rip your eyes from hers? Don’t you know she’s liar and she’ll only ever love herself? Her heart is a rotting.
Some may wonder of her origins. She is married to the richest man in town, who will love her till the day he dies. He lives in a meek and tidy abode, for most of his profits go to the poor, widowed and orphaned. He loves the beggar and comforts the sick and imprisoned.
What a forgetful fool she is. Her lover is as good as they come, yet she cannot sit still, she will not be comforted. She will not be full.
Yet when her eyes catch his, from the window as she walks down the street, she’ll run into his arms, for she knows he is the only one who makes her feel at home. The world is a rough place, and she knows it.
Often in the cold of the night, she’ll come home and crawl into his bed weeping and he’ll kiss her so sweet. However, the streets and the music and the lights and the boys, all the cares of the world, they drag her like a magnet out his door.
Oh he knows that she’s a whore, by trade, but he will always love her and his love never fails. Despite her unfaithfulness, he remains faithful.
He beckons her back, and one day she will see and hear, and be his only.