That night she was stopped
that quiet whisper of love
that gentle touch
it was questioned
the lights shone brightly on them
the windows rolled down
they questioned her
they questioned her love, her faith
what did her name have to do with it?
or her age?
she loved him, she truly did
they asked her how much money she took
money against  a measure of time with him?
what did that woman mean?
"she's in a uniform, don't question her" he said
but she protested,
because she loved him, she truly did.

A societal mess- that's what she became.
A name in the newspapers
a shame to her household
a grave mistake.
he had to leave, her father said
you mustn't be fooled, her mother said
her crying eyes bid him farewell
he vowed that he'd love her
he vowed he'd be there one day
"it's too convoluted now"
Fate decided- so be it
Then it changed.

She walked down that narrow alley like every day
she was afraid to use the front door
everyone stared
they said horrible things
why subject herself to it everyday?
it's painless for her to take the back alley
no one notices, she's just a shadow

They followed this gentle shadow
they followed her footsteps
the tinkling of these earrings he had given her
they cautiously waited till that moment
till that moment that they could destroy her
bit by bit.
no one came in response to those blood curling shrieks
no one shone a light on them
no woman in a uniform asked her how much she would charge them
no man called her dishonorable
there was no one at all
just her empty eyes and susurrus protests
she laid barren, exposed in that back alley
it was dark, no lights
no concern, no questions
no allegations, no threats
no mistakes, no convolutions
it was simple really as she lay there
at least she died in honor, right?
At least no one would accuse her now?
Wrong,
that would continue, how naive she was even at her end
as she went from a shadow to a memory
without love
without life

When I read
The words don't come alive;
**I do.

I'm asleep.
At least, I think I am.
I can't tell.
My eyes are closed, and I'm trying very hard to dream.
Truly.
My hands are blindly searching for something that's not there.
A television set with a white screen.
A blank canvas with a set of white paints.
A dry erase board with nothing to erase.
A black page in a book, waiting to be written on.
I open my eyes again.
I sigh.
My eyes close once more and I attempt to fall asleep.

**~~a.s.f.