She hang hearts. Seven of them.
Red pumps from flesh addicts,
seven of them.
Seven black suits that took her
dancing, then
to a buttoned up apartment
to unbutton
her dress.
Her white legs shook as she thread
dead chambers,
ashamed
of suits
that dance and bring
red-heads night caps.
She sits. Silent tears escape while
seven men
seep
life, dry.
maggiemaeijustsaythis 
Love the stanza…took her to a buttoned up apartment to unbutton her dress.
Not comfortable, but then not intended to be, I think.
Last stanza is amazing
Terrific MM!
Reblogged this on HRSH REYALITEE and commented:
THIS IS DOPE 🙂
This is a great poem!
Truly, truly amazing.