I Am Used and Worn

She seems to have nothing special to give to him.

For, everything a man would want is lost, stolen, gone.

Her body is filthy, touched by the hands of many.

Would he be able to find a place of his own in her?

Perhaps on her soul, if he would try.

It's going to take awhile to break through every layer.

She knows he would never give to her that precious gift.

Saints can't make love to demons.

Would he try?

Maybe.

Maybe not.

But how could a man so lovely come to love a woman so horrid?

Grace, surely, will pity her this time.

She can change.

Change.

But, oh,

How she 

CAN'T.

What's been done cane never be undone.

How it rips her apart

To know that

She can't give to him

What he could

Give

To 

Her.

Not one inch of skin has been left

unbruised.

What could motivate a man to want a body that's belonged to other?

She hates herself.

He should hate her, too.

But maybe, just once, there will be something new.

But maybe, like always, she's just too used.

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