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She walked past those starry eyes,
smoothly, void of imperfections.
She wore her best heels,
slipped into her delicate satin attire.
Her kohl smudged dark eyes searching the street,
of something she expects everyday, every night.

As she stands near the pole elegantly,
her countenance reflects the unexplored pain,
the harsh layers of make-up, alas, hide it no more.












She lights a cigar,
her lipstick-coated lips puckers up, inhaling the smoke,
which hurts her lungs but gives her soul, the divine solace.

She waits, still, time pass by and so does those "starry" eyes,



she, the only being, knows the bitter-sweet reward of this waiting.
Far, from the blue, comes a limousine, white and shiny,
stops near her, the door opens, quickly.

She silently taps her smoke off, her inner goddess cries out,
she checks her watch, and hops inside the dead-rich machine.

She wakes up, her teary eyes looks the ceiling, above,
her body, naked and tired, hurts from inside,
she pulls herself up, fighting hard,
the ghastly experience of the night before,
but she fails to fight back, miserably.

She looks around the room, she is not familiar with,
sees a cheque on the table, takes it fast and swift.
She hurries out the room, wipes the silent tear,
rolling down her beautifully sculptured cheek bones.

The door closes after her, slowly,
closing down all the moments of night before,
and opening up moments,
yet to come.




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