Marybeth found Memphis
on a sunny morning telling lies;
everybody lied to her
when she was shiny-eyed
singing some old Muddy song.
Marybeth made heroin her career
for six long years on the damned end of Beale,
her guitar case collecting fixes
as she sang from somewhere else,
far away with angels.
Marybeth walked away
to a business college in Odessa
and a guy who seems to love her.
She's okay with that
but sometimes her blue eyes
look away
to the needle
and that one time,
busking to an empty street -
she sang that one time,
that one goddamn time,
she sang so right
and mixed herself up inside the four bars
and one long note that came from
a place she couldn't bear.
Marybeth has scars.
Honorable mention
Adding your comment:
Incredible penning, my Friend. Good luck in Zayra's contest, Scribe. 
