Emily Two

Across from the pub, where we drink wine, she gives me a shove, the deals behind Primark, to her is no crime, grabs hold of my arm, she looks up above, lost in her time, the years she went bust, hair like a jump start, she hasn't a dime, no one takes her part, we met in some club, initially fine, where no one has luck, never easy or calm, she tells many lies, a wandering star, and lays down lost looks, says everything's fine, asks me to rub, the pain in her side.