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Rated: 18+ · Poetry · Biographical · #2149812
Experience of being a prostitute in its relation to selling drugs
Tried to cover my ears,
so I couldn’t see your song.
Lure me in.
Lure me on.
Sluff off layer,
layer,
layer of my identity.
Stolen?
Bought?
Gifted to you
on a generic Tupperware lid;
reusable to a point.
I melt.
I smell.
I burn through,
stain.
At least I was served on something.
Served up,
portioned well.
Leftovers doggy-bagged,
ready to sell.
© Copyright 2018 Cheyenne Malcolm (cllmalcolm at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/2149812-Siren