Frail Grasp on the Big Picture

Cigarette smoke swivels throughout the empty room,
And the air is tainted with a bottle of cheap perfume,
As she stands in the mirror, readjusting her miniskirt,
Drinking in the sight: fishnet stockings and a belly shirt.

Her eyes are bloodshot red as she walks out the door,
Feeling better than she`d ever felt in her life before,
And the gents near the bar all turn their stare her way,
As she stands in the doorway; they find the words to say.

The light beams down on her bright blonde hair,
And there`s talk of a heartbreak in the crisp air,
Her blue eyes shine with the hurt from her past,
And her self - control is fading behind too fast.

She swallows her pride as she orders a round of drinks,
Ignoring all of the useless catcalls and the winks,
He`s become just another notch in her belt,
And she`s looking for a feeling she`s never felt.

In room 206, she loses her rationality in the dirty sheets,
Listening as a strangers heart starts to heavily beat,
Dying in his arms, she forgets who they once were,
Holding onto her frail grasp on the big picture.

-Jenna Elphick
November 17, 2007