To you, I am a lipstick-slicked smile.
A branded automaton.
A stocking-topped fantasy.
A bring me, serve me, filthy joke.

To you, I am there for the calling.
Push the corporate button,
Watch her dance.
The strings are invisible.

To you, I am a peripheral bauble.
A wanton waitress.
A pocket for a business card.
A bringer of brandy.

You cannot imagine
What I’ve seen.
What is required.
A head for heights, and hearts.

The hands I’ve held, the tears I’ve wiped.
Gentle comfort to a stranger,
A colleague, a child,
When fear or pain or death takes flight.

To you, I am a lipstick- slicked smile.
A clouded view.
I hope I never witness your descent.

Kathy Hoyle was a former Creative Writing student at the OU, graduating last year, and is now completing her MA at The University of Leicester.