Looking for a saviour under the stars
Men slow then stop their cars.
Girls under street lamps stand
Waiting for their lord’s command.
Needle pricks scar their arms
Still men discern a certain charm.
Girls think of their next fix
Man moistens his dry lips.
“I seek a saviour of a kind
In the hope some inner peace I may find”
He says shuddering at her needle lines.
“Your saviour I will be
Provided you can pay my fee.
A girl must live. Love isn’t free”,
She says gazing at a distant tree.
She thinks of her girlhood not so long ago
Of trees their boughs bent under the weight of snow.
She thinks “once I could not be bought
Before hard drugs their damage rought”.
The man holds out cold hard cash
She takes it with a bitter laugh.
Stepping in through the car’s open door
She wonders if she can take much more.
Her eyes fixed on the stars above
As he makes what he calls love.
She thinks of the knife at home
How easy to end it when all alone.
The pain is there behind his eyes
Inwardly two souls cry.
He stares at the moon above
Desperately probing for a kind of love.
Afterwards two empty vessels they depart
Both with sore and aching hearts.
K Morris - Poet 