The sliding glass door creaked and jerked as I pulled it, struggling to slide smoothly. The dense, potent air of the city engrossed me, throwing my hair into a frenzy as the door finally opened. I left it ajar behind me, tiptoeing to the edge of the stone wall of the balcony. Resting my elbows on the edge, I peered across the night, neon signs blinking out of sync, streetlights dimly glowing by darkened alleys and cars pushing forward like insects drawn to the light. The pungent stench of gasoline, smog, sewer and uncertainty grazed my nostrils in a foul, intrusive thrust. Oddly, I longed to eat an orange, to watch the mist spray into the air at the cracking of the peel, the pieces tearing away easily, sinking my teeth into the moist center, the sweet water tickling my tongue and dribbling down my chin. I sighed, my chest slowly rising and falling.1
Few stars glistened in the vast blanket of black silk above me, a yellowed moon stealing their shine. I focused on the dance, the glimmer, the battle to stay alive. Did they know what they were fighting for? Or were they fighting because it was all they had to do?2
A hand slid across my belly, an arm wrapped around my side. I never heard him come outside. He rested his chin on my shoulder top and pressed himself to me, my satin nightie clinging tightly to my skinny frame, stained with all the lies of other men. He tried to coax me inside, whispering a thousand false promises in my ear. How did he not know that I stared blankly at the ceiling when we made love? That his touch numbed me? That I dreamed of another life which did not include anything I'd ever known including myself? Did I even believe in love anymore?3
I took one last glance of the night, of the essence of murdered hope, and turned to accept his wishes, stepping back through the glass door as it screeched shut behind me. The stale, musty scent of beer, cheap cologne and old sex wrapped itself around me. So began another night at home. Home. A place that only exists in dreams.4
Author notes
Just some experimenting guys...it isn't me!
What did you think? Please comment!
Comments
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I heard the word prostitute.
Thats a funny word if you say it over and over again. But you should say it in your head cos people will think you're an oversexed phsycopath if they see you standing in line at a grocery store say "prostituteprostituteprostituteprostituteprostituteprostitute" It would be funny though. Someone would call the cops and you would be declared crazy in the court of law and you would go to a crazy people place and in a straight jacket and be put in a padded room and you can like run into the walls and fall over onto the soft cooshy floor....that would be like my life dream. never get. hurt. Cooshy is a pimp word...so is woofy. cooshy cooshy cooshy...potatoe.......was that your strawberry shortcake thing in the freezer?? Cos I just ate it. 
I hope it was my dad's So he cant eat it and gain 10 more pounds. He always smells like sweaty poop. What do you smoke that rhymes with hot, bead, dud, lerb, mass, larijuana, and hairy mane. I personally think you smoke crack. Even though that's not possible. What does old sex smell like??? What does sex smell like??? Does it smell like fucking sweat or something?? You would know syd, you goddamn little whore. Stupid hoebag. HI!! 
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I thought about maiing her a prostitute and then I decided not to go that route. I was thinking more of her as the type of woman who eases into many relationships for whatever reason, and now that she's done it for so long, she doesn't want it anymore, but she knows nothing else. I originally wasn't going to write more. It was mainly just to attempt the short story form and try to intrigue the reader.
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great!
An excellent read. I just got back from tijuana and it clicked as to what your poem is all about. K -
I was rivited from the very first line....
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good!
Interesting. It's very vague - is more coming? I got the feeling that this girl is a prostitute. Am I right? Your ability to describe the physical world around this girl is very good, and I want to know the rest of the story - if there is more. good! -
Aww thanks ya much! I don't know where I got the inspiration for this...maybe when we were in Hollywood? I don't really know, but it just sort of came to me.
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Ah, yes I read this. You have quite a talent for short stories, Sydney! I'm not one for short stories.. I don't usually have the patience for them. In MY mind they require FAR more brainpower than even a 40-line poem! But that's me. I could feel everything in this story, Sydney, and it even succeeded at depressing me a bit. If you can have an effect on my MOOD, then you are definitely GOOD. AWESOMELY DONE.
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You did this so well, sweetheart! Your choice of words make this piece very vivid; it's as if you can make the reader see and hear what you want them to. Beautiful! I'm serious! You should write more stories
so many small emotions amongst the big ones in this piece felt farmiliar to me, and you described them very well! GREAT write! Morgaine
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*Rapid applause for about eight hours!!!* OoOo I love it so far. I hope you have more in store. As you know I don't very much like to read, but if you wrote a book I know it could keep my attention and that is saying a lot. Your descriptions where absolutely amazing, so vivid and real. You have a real talent for words. Fantastic job hun!
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wow, just wow.its a really nice story.
-sarah-
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