She was seventeen years old the night she watch that man die. Seventeen years of thinking summed up in the hollow vision of a dead junkies eyes.
“What are you lookin at?”
She told a priest on the bus that had been eyeing her fishnet stocking and the pretty little clasp of garter that was making an appearance out from under the snake skin mini.
As the building rushed by she couldn’t help but imagine all the things her mom must have hoped she would become.
“Stupid bitch you’ll never amount to shit.”
Rang in her ears as she became a naked nine year old girl, hymen-less crying in her papa’s room.
The bus stopped and the not so “Pretty Woman” Flo Jo’ed down the sidewalk in stiletto heels, with the mocking still playing till she banged on the door.
He handed her the red balloon that would silence her papa, reverse, or at least dilute his prophecy and melt away the unbeautiful from her galaxy.
She stood and dropped her clothes on the floor, before turning to the man in the room.
“Tell me I am beautiful”