Annie Browne

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The harlot, Annie Browne.

Submitted: August 03, 2017

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Submitted: August 03, 2017



She's a tune you tap along to but forget you've heard before,

Sucking through her teeth, her cheeks cave in above her jaw.

There is robot-metal coldness in the spiral of her stare,

Old friends would've warned you better but your new friends couldn't care.

It's a Hollywood red carpet, all the people look in awe,

A one-for-all extravaganza, in the red light Shangri-La.

She's a tip-toeing-tornado, best you don't go chasing after,

There's no satisfaction in her smile, no pleasure in her laughter.

A windowsill enchantress, poised to catch you in her spell,

You weren't looking, you knew better but you couldn't help but dwell.

There is money in your wallet and it's clear to you she knows,

A faithful man lays down on satin sheets with a street-corner-Bardot.

It wasn't your intentions, so you shouldn't feel so down,

You were just another victim of the harlot, Annie Browne. 

© Copyright 2018 Evan Saint-Laurent. All rights reserved.

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