At The Whisper And The Roar, Tina Rose paints a portrait in words of a woman.
Paris was vibrant,
the outskirts, charcoal.
In dark corners
the women in red
lifted skirts for men in top hats.
was a demi-monde beauty,
scarlett dressed and wide-eyed,
They called her,
The men with grasping hands
who were always hungry.
An animal appetite
behind human eyes
A beast in a suit.
If you listened carefully you could almost hear a hint of a growl
from the corner of his mouth
The sweat on his brow
with a lipstick blood handkerchief
Before he returned home to his wife.
The silk strings on Manon’s corset were
from eager fingertips,
That were too rough.
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