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Clare Martin Clare Martin
Recommendations: 12

Brief Relief


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This writing contains explicit content and is only for adults. You have been warned.

A short poem about a woman who lives a depressing life of prostitution and drug addiction. Not based on anybody I know.


He looks her in the eyes,
Their limbs as stiff as wood.
We know her heart is beating
Much faster than it should.


He taps her forehead lightly,
Pull her into a warm embrace.
She gets the smell of coffee
And the sweet scent of aftershave.


Their necks are throbbing lightly
With the bruises from the past.
But as he places his lips on her,
She wills herself to last.


After it's all over,
The crisp notes in her palm,
She sobs at the end of her bed
Forgetting to stay calm.


She presses on the plunger,
The sharp pain and the relief.
She breathes in the smell of smoke
But the joy is just too brief.


The room is a bloody pig sty,
Her clothes strewn here and there.
Some t-shirts, some sexy skirts
But mostly underwear.


A cot lies by her bedside
A baby screams for love.
But as she undoes her top
She knows she's had enough.


Rehabilitation, mental clinic
She goes there when she's ill.
But nothing has worked so far
And she doubts it ever will.


Every breath is like a marathon
Every needle like a blade.
Hardly able to bear her sins,
She commits what God forbade.


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