She stands outside

Shaking as if she were naked

Her short fur lined hooded jacket

Her only protection from the cold

Not covering her tatty faded jeans

And burnt out long ago trainers

Worn to the walk of her feet

As she takes another drag

From the cigarette held tight between her lips

Held clumsily in her fingers

purple and white as her face

her yellow stained teeth

Gapped around the sides and to the back

In dark squares of time

A testament to her youth

But it’s the willingness of pressure

To find another hit instead of

the mars bars and pasties that sustain her

And when she’s got the money sometimes pizza and chips

 

Her skinny frame in contrast to her

Red ruby lips and the disinterested smile  

She will give to punters

Through open car windows

blasting welcome heat

as she debates terms and how much

she has no nails to speak of

and fingers that are blistered angry as her face

 

but resolute and determined to hold on to

what little she can

when at last she finally gets home

full of the taste of sausage roll and half a cup of tea

relief breaks across her face

as she releases her grip upon foil and lighter

splayed out on her bed

to be found by a friend next morning

who does not know the strength of what she bought

from a bloke on the street

only thinking it must be good

by the smile still etched on her face