Lost, But Secretly Wishing To Be Found

She carried the scent of revelry

Not the sweet flowery kind

Where glasses are raised in celebration

Smiling faces trade sexts and texts

And everything glitters and shines

Her revelry comes in a different package

It’s the raw and seedy type

Where the streets are nameless

The people worthless and broken

Used up and faded away

Like the paint in a tenement

Sounds of sirens and arguments

Fried food and street garbage

Alleyways and drug houses

The smells of the urban underground

Some inherited while others all her own

Acrid sweat of an ancient mattress

Hanging on her scrawny frame

Like a prison jumpsuit

Or a cloak of perpetual shame

Her back dirtier than her eyes can see

Oil and grime mixed with cheap perfume

Alcohol residue and cigarette smoke

Matted hair far past a beautician’s chair

Her youth lost so long ago

Rough voice and rougher hands

Chipped and broken fingernails

Fissures hidden beneath the layers

She’s painted everywhere

Dark rouge to hide the bruises

Ruby red lipstick and weak smile

Never showing the teeth beneath

Splashes of color when she can find them

Heavy on the eyes to hide the fatigue

Her days are long but her nights longer

Shoes worn from walking miles

Stockings lined with runs upon runs

The finest of thrift-store clothes

A walking hand me down

Yet has-been seems more appropriate

Nothing left to sell, nothing to give

Emotions long since surrendered

Desperation her only companion

The drinks no longer dull the pain

She can’t afford the price of the needle

So each night she waits for closing time

Last call in a bathroom stall

Or maybe nothing at all

Alone, when the darkness comes

She walks away without a sound

Lost, but secretly wishing to be found

R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all.I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed.I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another.I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me.I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

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R J Schwartz

I write about everything and sometimes nothing at all. I'm fascinated by old things, rusty things, abandoned places, or anywhere that a secret might be unearthed. I'm passionate about history and many of my pieces are anchored in one concept of time or another. I've always been a writer, dating back to my youth, but the last decade has been a time of growth for me. I'm continually pushing the limitations of vocabulary, syntax, and descriptive phrasing.

2 thoughts on “Lost, But Secretly Wishing To Be Found

  • May 14, 2018 at 8:12 PM
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    So sad the lives of so many people, on the streets and forced into drugs and crime to survive. Nicely rendered Ralph, with stark imagery and fine phrasing. Great work my friend.

    Reply

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