Haunted Brothel
Her bony fingers stroked my hair,
I shuddered at the icy touch,
And when I turned no one was there.
I felt the hatred of her stare,
My heart was frozen in its clutch,
Her bony fingers stroked my hair.
I’d walked into the open snare,
My curiosity too much,
And when I turned no one was there.
I stood alone inside her lair,
The murdered prostitute was Dutch,
Her bony fingers stroked my hair.
The room was full of such despair,
I tried to flee but dropped my crutch,
And when I turned no one was there.
How stupid was the double dare,
I’d suffer now for playing butch,
Her bony fingers stroked my hair,
And when I turned no one was there.
For Paula's Unease contest
Copyright © Jack Horne | Year Posted 2012
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