Hayley Green – SST9 Auditorium – Final Draft

5 Jul

In the Smoking Area…

You are stilettos high, I am bare foot, barely standing
rolling cigarettes as if I have more interest in the floor,
studying my reflection in your 6-inch heels.

Where conversation lingers stale with cigarette smoke,
you approach me for a light.
Modelling mannequin realness, you’ve curved your dress into a female,
dusted your cheeks with the colour of pride.

Although your eyes are question marks,
your questions dance down drains with your cigarette ash;
You never ask as if you’re afraid my reply will be bound with needles.

You smoke in silence, inhaling your questions into your lungs, lady like,
like lady is a description, I read it jewelled around your bodice.

I am more of a drag queen tonight than you ever were; you are a woman,
boobs, bums and boasting. I am bare bones, bound bumpy together.

I have been here my whole life,
buckling baggy bottomed jeans to barrier palms from the softest sections of my skin.

Vulnerability is a dress resting just above my knee
where his hand gartered my thigh.


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