pay it forward

I don't make a habit
of giving my number
to drunk women
but I couldn't leave her alone
to cry out her soul on the sidewalk

She talked of loss
and hate and loneliness
and while her story
isn't a mirror to
the heart lines on my palms
I held her hand
like we were temporary soulmates
gave her my number
and slipped a twenty
into her jacket pocket
not caring what the money
trickled into

Because I know what it's like
to get lost under late night streetlights
feeling like I'm less than the trash
some silhouette of a stranger
kicked into the gutter
without sparing me a first glance

And she's called me twice this week
to cry down the line
talking through the swirls of wine
slipping down her throat
and I don't have enough ego
to believe I can save her
from the the pain she'd rather
drown than face
but I know what it's like to live
a life unheard
and sometimes a friend
is better than a saviour