memoirs of a whore
skin suffocating spagetti strap
inches above camo capris
six-inch fuck-me heels
and sex in her step
no marilyn monroe beauty
but painted up, she was close
love-struck virgin naivette
was her weapon of choice
this was getting old.
she rolled over in the sheets
careful to avoid waking
her newest piece of meat
bare, painted toes hit carpet.
after pulling on her persona,
she knelt, eyes grazing
the prostrated, used body
that was her lover
slowly rising, ready to leave,
she spoke
in a barely audible murmur:
"there is no such thing
as love"
inches above camo capris
six-inch fuck-me heels
and sex in her step
no marilyn monroe beauty
but painted up, she was close
love-struck virgin naivette
was her weapon of choice
this was getting old.
she rolled over in the sheets
careful to avoid waking
her newest piece of meat
bare, painted toes hit carpet.
after pulling on her persona,
she knelt, eyes grazing
the prostrated, used body
that was her lover
slowly rising, ready to leave,
she spoke
in a barely audible murmur:
"there is no such thing
as love"
me and alex 1 were having a serious conversation (believe it or not) about prostitution and i was inspired.
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contemplated existance at 4:19 PM
