Bare

She's bare.  Her body is covered with very small pieces of red cloth.  It looks like a makeshift skirt and tube top.  Her hair hangs heavily in her face, hiding her left eye.  I stand far off watching her and wondering what the night before had been like for her.  It was only late afternoon as my friend and I stood in the train station.  She seems so empty, so lost.  She leaves wet and muddy footprints on the train station floor as she makes her way to sit against the wall.  A guy holds her by the waist as they sit down, but in so many ways she is alone.

She looks so young- fifteen or sixteen at the most. He pulls her close to him to keep her warm.  Her nearly bare body shivers from the cold as she looks up at him.  Although I'm not close enough to see, I'm sure that her eyes show an emptiness.  "She's bare.", I keep thinking to myself.  Will she be held by a different guy tomorrow?  Whose arms will she trust?  Whose lips will she kiss as his words satisfy her longing for that moment?  Did her parents miss her not being home the night before? 

I stand there holding my friend's coffee and my heart cries for her.  I don't know her, but I want to.  She is a mystery to me.  She leans her head over onto the guy's shoulder and I wonder how much he cares about her.  He looks down at her and rolls his eyes and lets out a long sigh. His frustration is obvious.  Does he know her favorite color?  Does he know her biggest dreams and what she wants in life?  Does he know her favorite food and that she prefers daises over roses any day of the week?  Is her small bare body all that he sees? 

My friend and I slowly walk toward the platform as our train approaches.  As we do, I look at her more closely this time.  "She is bare. It's not fair, it never seems to be." I look through the window of the train as we take our seats and see her for the last time.  "She is bare.  One day, I hope she is clothed in true genuine love and acceptance."