the number of times
she'd given herself to a man
and he'd given something back
She could count on one hand
the number of times
she'd walked into town
and they hadn't whispered behind her back
It took one fist to shut them up
one finger to tell them what they should do
and one tear that would betray her
that she'd wipe like dust from her eyes
with the back of her hand as she counted
the lonely steps and kept walking
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