PoetrySad Poems

A Salesgirl’s Cry

Just yesterday,
You grabbed my bum
Like a hungry woman
Would grab a plate of buns
After skipping breakfast and brunch.

You’ve been winking at me,
But I don’t feel any twinkle.
All I can see is the wrinkle
On your on-the-brink-of-death face.

I sell hots
Because life has been hot.
I am left with no choice
Than to mute the voice
In my head that warns me
About the hurts that come with selling hots.

Men come in and go out of Mama Charlie’s
Exalted hut where I sell hots,
Wanting to be hot—
A lot of them have had their egos hurt.
What baffles me is,
They see me as hot after taking several shots.

I am a salesgirl
Who has since put her conscience on sale;
But no one wants to buy it—
I am stuck with it.
Yesterday, after the scenario—
I cried.
My body isn’t for sale.

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