Unpaid Whore

Stranded and alone

Leaning against the telephone pole

Cloud of smoke hides the hollow look

Lewd acts in which the john partook

Sleepless nights with cheap tricks

Nasty thrills to get your kicks

Powerless to hurt me anymore

Nothing but an unpaid whore.

Wise Oak Tree

One day you will face the strong winds

You will neither falter nor fall.

You will stand tall and proud.

You will battle and win.

You will strengthen and mature.

You will nurture and foster.

You will shield and protect

You will shade and shelter.

One day you will be.



Five Senses

I see you crumpled and ragged

Lying on the contemporary leather couch

The one you bought in better times.

I wish I could give you a padded room

For you to emancipate your fury.

I hear your shattered and estranged voice

Talking to me on your extravagant new cell

The one you required in happier times.

I wish I could bring back your musical muse

For you to lose yourself in the strings.

I feel your sorrowful torment

Going through your demanding days

Like the ones you had in another lifetime

I wish I could give you a serene pillow

On which to rest your languid head.

I smell your immense grief and revulsion

Selling the utopian beach house of your ideals

The one that was a rebirth of a punctuated life

I wish I could endow you with a home

In which to shelter away from this tornado.

 

I taste your salty clandestine tears

Being shed from your exposed being

The one that has fostered abuse and dismay

I wish I could be there to incinerate the despair

For you to continue the way you were.