My love lost in the cold
with none left to share.
What I have, saved for her.
Time numbing me in its grace.
Pushed forward by the tide – Now
five blocks closer to home,
sharing a house with two lost souls.
That piece of paper tucked in a drawer.
Working at a bar down on George Street –
this year’s birthday gift.
Some might say I made it.
I beat the odds out there.
But I’m not buyin’ just yet.
The street teaching me to wait it out.
Appearances don’t count for much.
The truth tucked somewhere out of reach.
Some things better left alone –
Flirting with the nightly customers.
Nobody questions another painted smile.
Nobody wants to know the truth.
People want pretty packages
served on a silver platter – the daily special.
And I’m no different.
Mine a few empty boxes on the floor.
©Brenda Baker 2016
Part 14 of Hushed Voices