Image for the poem noir for a half-angel

noir for a half-angel

she was not born of heaven, nor of hell
but from somewhere in between.

not pure enough to be an angel, or wicked enough to
be the devil’s call girl. if she had any morals at all, they
were easy to hide in the low light. she liked men who
were good to her, & she was good to me sometimes.

she played hard, since she’d come from a hard past.
behind her back, the guys who watched her & made up
their dirty fantasies, said she was easy. I wondered if
that, or anything, could hurt her.

she liked to sleep late, & didn’t worry much about the
clock; but if she had an appointment with her dealer, she
was right on time, because every broken thing needs a fix.

when we had sex, I’d pace myself so she’d skyrocket first,
then I’d ram in for the payoff. when I unloaded my cargo,
I’d make to evacuate, but she’d grip me tighter. ‘leave it,’
she’d say, ‘it belongs there.’

I figured I’d fall in love one day, but not with her. she was
a party girl with a wild spirit, & she wouldn’t be owned.
we packed our dreams on a runaway train.

some stories don’t end sadly, they just end. in time, we
simply drifted apart, with no tearful goodbyes, & nights of
passionate grace that I’d long remember. I learned from
her that love is a beast in a jungle of dance clubs & old
movies, & the heart hunts alone…

Written by JohnFeddeler
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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