she liked to fake trust.

she liked men
who bought her drinks.

she liked her lines
off a dirty plate.

dirty.
dirty.
dirty.

a few shots.
some lemo.

she opened easily —
like cheap crisps:
loud crack, no value,
gone in seconds.

dirty.
dirty.
dirty.

your mother must be proud.

cheap sex.
cheap smile.
perform it.

laugh like it’s power.

but the tears were real.
the blood was real.

dirty.
dirty.
dirty.

she cried.
she bled.

crying and bleeding,
wiping it away like makeup.

calling it “just a night.”
calling it “just a phase.”
calling it “nothing.”

dirty.
dirty.
dirty.

and still she returned.

again.
again.
again.

so dirty.
so proud.

zero importance.

a mouth full of salt.
a body that never learned
how to say no.