Bishop’s Bar: Take Three (Her Turn)

She turns,
hearing a voice call her name.
She turns
hearing nothing more then the wind.

She
could have been so much.
But life
caught up with her.

Young once,
she dreamed of dancing.
Money and lust
found a way of killing dreams.

She turns
hearing so much more then the wind.
She touches
cold dead arms withered by time.

She sighs
feeling heavy breasts like peaches
in a training bra.
They are just as real.

Nails
red like lust
move hair
frail as hay.

Her dress,
a shambles, relects a lost life
revealing
what she truly is.

She speaks
softly calling out to the money
of the man
in the bar stool next to her,
to no avail.

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