The Pretense of a Slattern

An illustrated portrait of myself now rests in your hands, something that I'd never even dreamed.
Consideration goes a long way when you are paying through the back door.
Come back, we'll make it all worthwhile and forget the bad while we whisper over the loud voices in the next room. Let our gin soaked throats carry upward and onward as we hail, "We are the real ones. We won your silly little game."
Your hand can trace the outline of a name you once called yourself but here is where there isn't a single identity but multiple people encompassed into one sigh.