love is
an absence
an abscess
an access panel
to nothing

i saw it once oozing down the torn fishnet stocking of a prostitute with morning sickness behind a dumpster

her left eye was swollen, when she smiled you could see the scars of life etched into her tattered wisp of a soul

her limp was more pronounced in the morning, as she pulled the faux fur jacket tightly around her emaciated frame

designer knock off hand bag filled with condoms and gently used hypodermics, ignore the white powder on her face

do you think this was her dream as a small girl, she thought of it as she fished with her father on an early morning by the river

the bobber leaving gradually expanding ripples on the dirty water, the smell of the city wafting under the bridge

did she think of a white picket fence, two and half kids, a dog named spot and forty hours a week waiting tables

or hand jobs for heroin, pills for the aches and pains, a bottle of courage, giving three quarters pay and head to a jealous pimp

love is
an illusion
a delusion
a panicked voice
for help
as life passes by
pretending to look
the other way

the world is ugly, filled with ugly people doing ugly things while ugly thoughts race over beauty without a glance in the rearview

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