She hates the fact that when she looks in the mirror, she doesn't see what they see. So she turns to them, men, countless men, to tell her. But in her hatred there is love, a need for these faceless males with their roaming hands and slurred compliments.

Words whispered in the backseats of cars, in dark alleys behind unsavoury joints are like drugs to her system. She craves them like an addict craves his drug of choice. They soothe for a moment, but are never enough. There's always a need for more.

In the dark. Grunting and panting, these strangers will be her eyes, and for a short time she will see as they see; love what they lust after. They will use each other, one gaining physical satisfaction and the other, emotional fufillment, if only for a while.

She does not delude herself with dreams of love. She doesn't expect flowers, candle lit dinners, words of gratitude, or even a crumpled bank note on her nightstand. It is their desire she craves. For a short time, she fills their minds just as they fill her body. During those stolen moments, she belongs to them.

It is only when it is over, that the self-disgust returns. They walk away without so much as a glance back to where she lies curled up in a ball, alone with her hatred. They leave not as they came, for great chunks of her self cling to their retreating backs. She is left filled with emptiness. It is this emptiness she loathes the most, so once again, she'll go searching for herself in another's arms.

How sad indeed.

Definitively a downer.

Nice write...Welcome afriQueen..

"For a short time, she fills their minds just as they fill her body. During those stolen moments, she belongs to them."

It starts from the beginning, this need...to belong.
Welcome.

Within night lies darkness but dawn must surely rise. So it is with the darkness of grief within the soul. Look for the glimmer of hope and be guided by it into the light of love. It is there for us all if we choose to seek it.