the backs of my feet hurt at the pinch
of the heels i'm forced to wear.
the velvet of my noir dress is gentle against the skin but suffocating around the waist.
i am addressed as by my dad's name,
with a question follow up of
"oh you're his daughter aren't you?
what a gorgeous thing,
are those chanel shoes?"
i smile, but in the inside i frown,
for i have a name,
and all that mattered to these women were the best designer gowns.
conversations around,
the only things i heard,
were
"i make a thousand grand"
and
"my son manages a business too!"
my brun eyes wander,
amongst the crowd of people,
with tight lipped smiles,
and faux red roses.
when they land on the pearls adorning a wrinkly neck,
i can't help but to see a pearly white noose,
another to match,
with the grey haired husband sitting next to them.
the smiles were fake and you could definitely tell,
all that mattered to these people were money,
that was all they seeked.
there is no talk of camping trips and family bbq's,
just luxurious cruise tours and auctions they've been to.
i must confess,
i'm scared one day,
all the money i earn,
will take my youth away.
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