Walking with her… in her heels

she wakes up drenched in the ocean of dreams,

and hurries off to repair, work on her life’s seams,

brushing rivulets of her hair, she leans into the mirror,

considering self, moving forward near and nearer,

only disturbed by the ring of the peaceful phone,

but deciding whether to attend it or not, it is gone

to leave a silence, that she tastes tingling on her lips,

and finally, she leaves for the streets, swaying her hips,

down the path to the usual location, she waits,

habitually ignoring the trail of car after car that rates,

the size and shape of her and others of her business,

conforming to their needs, their lives of weakness,

one hand points towards her, agreeing her to come,

she notices, complies, and through the door she sits glum,

on the seat reeking of cigarettes and urine of old,

she feels the four wheels move, she is now sold

to the night, forgetful of her heart that refuses to beat,

she falls out, not to see a thing or hear the fall of sleet,

coming to herself, she stands, stumbling, stiffness she feels,

exits a bar, a motel, an apartment in her heels,

carefully counting the bills, walking on into the day,

alone on the path where there are many and many  lay,

but no one really is, but for dreams that await on the single bed,

those false entities have no seams repaired, she has no threads

.

Image source

I started off without any thought but then I was reminded of the insensitivity of some people towards those… whose lives they have not lived and yet they judge. They do not know how it is to be in their shoes. I feel and I can at least try to imagine their lives… and give words to their untold stories. This is a work of fiction but it may well be a real life account… I don’t know.

I appreciate constructive criticism.

I am linking it up with dVerse Meeting the Bar.

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21 thoughts on “Walking with her… in her heels

  1. oh i wish she would manage to escape…it’s not easy… you captured her emotions well – i think there is hope as long as she still has dreams, you know..

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  2. wow man….good job looking through the eyes of another…these are the stories that can stretch you when you really try to put yourself there and think about what it would take for you to get to that point in life…and then to deal with everything that comes with it……great job

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  3. the world’s oldest profession, cleverly caught and conveyed in rhyming verse; I was halfway through the poem before I noticed the rhyme scheme, which is a kudo to your writing skills; the lives of prostitutes, pickpockets, & petty thieves have always been fodder for artistic expression; loved the message you imparted without a sermon.

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  4. I think compassion begins when we can see ourselves in others. The first few lines of your poem could have been any woman. The course of her day, her choices, and her fate are a complex thing that you touch upon here with a gentle tone.

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  5. You have really gotten into the life of this woman, made us feel sympathy for her rather than judging (as Glenn said) the world’s oldest profession. However, like Claudia, I wish she would find a way out!

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  6. Therin Knite says:

    You get very deep into this character’s perspective, and the imagery is fantastic. It all works to create this great dark that hints at the need for escape. Great piece!

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  7. I like that you got into her story & told life as it is from her point of view ~ Who are we to judge really ~ Those seams can never be repaired sadly ~

    As to the verses, I thought it would have greater impact if you didn’t rhyme but use street imagery as is, grime, dust & after taste of working for that money ~ But I appreciate your intention and applaud you for your compassion ~

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    • I thought the very same once when I had penned it. I know, the rhymes do not go with the theme. Thank you for sharing your views.
      I will work on it. It has still to go through many cuts here and there and the first victim would be the rhymes. Thank you. 🙂

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  8. The allure of your storyteeling shined through emotionaly, which to me is very important when I am reading a poem. I felt as thought I saw both you and me inside the lines.

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  9. Brushing rivulets of hair. What a great image.
    I love this poem, so full of compassion. A poignant story, this poor girl..Realising she’s been sold, & the attempt to fix the seams in her life, only to find that at the end of the day, she doesn’t have the equipment to do so. Really sad.
    I also love your gentle, unobtrusive rhyming. It worked really well for me. Well done.

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  10. hypercryptical says:

    You are right HA – from the safety of our personal cocoon – how easy it is to judge the life of others.
    Anna :o]

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  11. There is certain great poignancy here. I worry that the poor girls are not alone–too often there’s some pimp in the background, acting as enforcer. But your story certain brings up the internal isolation, awful, of this life. Thanks.k.

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