The Sweetest Prostitutes

2AM boulevards
Bathe me in lonely headlights.
My soul is broken
Like the crumbling pavement
Beneath my feet.

Tonight, the homeless
Are hidden out of sight
And the sweetest prostitutes
Have found their johns.

There is nothing left but me
Wandering the same streets
That grew weary of me
Long ago.

Perhaps, I will fall asleep
In a hopeful cemetery
And dream about a time
When I was still alive.

by Uriah Hamilton

Comments (9)

An poignant, haunting, James Ellroy - esque delight. Ooh, get me sounding like a proper critic! Hugs Anna xxx PS Have a 10
I have read several of your poems now, Uriah... You are a gem of a poet and I am going to add you to my friends list. dan
Uriah, Pain is often a source of art and at its best art can take pain and transcend into beauty. You manage that here. Good work. Best, Hugh
Uriah, this makes me so sad...You might want to read my latest poem posted today, 'Love Consummated.' Perhaps it will cheer you up...or something. Skye
See, there you go again. A grat beacon of light from darkness and you harnassed its very essence. Fine, fine work.
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