Prick by Supriya Kumble

She lies amongst unwashed white sheets and torn pillows
Her eyes emptily stare at cracked ceilings
She listens to the mechanic creak of a fan
In desperate need of some sort of fixing
The springs in the mattress press hard against
Her smooth, ivory, translucent back
The emerald silk hugs her jutting ribs
Barely covers her small breasts
Engulfs her in a softness she can’t seem to comprehend
She watches silently as he prepares the needle
Her eyes wander around the musty motel room
The familiarity washes over, she takes a deep breath
The anticipation of the needle pricking her skin
The chemical euphoria pulsing through her veins
A small smile graces her delicate features
As he wanders over to her side of the rickety bed
Nods are exchanged, he fulfils her yearning
She clutches the sheets with her blood red nails
Finally, the ecstasy overshadows her numbness
As her maddening laugh echoes through the forgotten hallways



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