Lady of the Evening

Beautiful Humankind,

Picture Credits

Scarlet bed and silent night,
Different night, different men
It doesn’t matter anymore
When they tell me
“You are sexy, prostitute.”
Kissed Necks, broken scars
A Vagina for all
They told me “Move On, Move On.”
From my native village,
I shift to
Like Mumbai and Bangalore,
Where working I learnt,
“A sex worker”,
Do you love me?
Oh. It doesn’t matter.
Slut. Sex worker. Seducer and what not
I recall.
My will? Does it matter?
Earning a living, to say the least
At streets, they glance at me.
There way of seeing me.
As an incivility
As unhygienic
With a wrinkled smile they say “Whore She is.”
For them, I give them love
For me, I hate myself.
Self Respect. I lost it for myself.

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