She was just a hole. Not like an ankle breaker, or a Florida sink, but just a hole. Warm and at times, lovely. Other times, just a hole. A hole to bury frustration. A hole to swallow hesitation. Or a hole of fleeting escape. She was just a hole...to some. But self-worth is worth more than tar pits and asphalt dumps. Worth more than sullen naps night caps or lunch in the corner of some off-beaten café. No window seat. Well. A deep subject. Like a hole. Beat street, fools, and let the door catch ya.