Geylang
Black and red
The scent of Shanghai Rose
Lingers. As threads of silk wrap themselves
around her curves.
She puts on a mask of powder
And gloss of crimson
In the hopes of a
Better life.
In the hopes of the coins rattling as they fall into the tin.
Dirty.
Cheapened.
Used.
Reluctant body
caressed by unfamiliar fingers.
The candle flame,
extinguished.
Athirah Bte Mohd Norahim
3E

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