Whore

[This is something I wrote back in 2008.  It was part of a poetry challenge in which we were instructed to select one line from the host’s poem and rework it into a completely new piece.  The line I chose was “desires once loved in private” and this is what I did with it.]

Whore

She paints the red smile upon her face
Mirror reflecting outer beauty
The hideousness remains
Unrevealed
Concealed

Desires once loved in private
Now a means to an end
Shot of liquor; then another
Warms her body
Numbs her mind

Memories of countless men
Dank smells
Dirty corridors
Desperate scores
Left behind

Knock at the door
Nervous john
Balding, paunchy
Sour breath, raunchy
Sex his vice, he pays the price

Monetary transaction complete
He pushes her down
To her knees
False moans
Mechanical fellatio

Make him believe
He owns her body
Yes, for a time
But her spirit already dead
She hides in this bed

Doing the one thing
For which she was trained
The one thing
She’s good for
Such a good little whore

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