Another hotel room, another disturbingly clean small world. 

I picked up the bed side brownish telephone and ordered for a dizzy spell, some cheap alcohol and a hooker. 

Two hours down, I was floating on my unauthorized cleanliness. 

A bell rang and there she was on a black short skirt and a red overcoat kind of a thing, world’s most beautiful whore. 

She came, poured a glass with cheap whisky, drank it with barbaric speed and went down to business.

She was a good fuck, we did it couple of times.  

I booked her for the whole night, so after a certain time words were the only thing that remained in our room. 

She was a young bastard. 

She giggled on almost everything that I said, I couldn’t help but notice a missing tooth in every smile of her.

 ” you are a piece of poetry, that I don’t have the courage to write in my lifetime.” I said looking at a wild scar on her bare back. 

She turned towards me, gave me an indifferent look and closed her eyes. 

Only this time I could see the whole cycle in front of my  hallucinating eyes.

She was that same girl who once sat on a swing  and tried to beat the gravity with her feet pointied towards the sky, felt the first sensation of puberty and tried to be anything other than a cheap hooker. 

I felt like kissing her on that scar. 

But instead poured the last bit of drinks In my glass and sucked it in one breath.

I slept naked on the floor. 

” Write something for me, then you never know next time you can get it free.” She was gone next morning leaving behind this note. 

I never touched the pen that day. 

Only drank some more and checked out in the evening leaving behind, my; most beautiful whore of this world to be fucked by some lone wolves. 

And probably a part of me too.

I escaped as a coward wolf. 

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