Threadbare Harlot

Covered it in carpet, polished it with paint
leads right to the very door where naughty boys acquaint
Feet of different fittings, climbing up the stairs

And yet… He remains in bed Staring at the ceiling She cries softly on the couch Feeling broken, used Just a receptacle for his need While she remains empty She fingers her phone Thinking of the invitation there Very casual A shared cup of coffee Nothing more, and yet She reads the real invitation In the depth of his eyes When he looks at her She wipes her tears as she thinks of fidelity and promises… He walks into the living room Suddenly shy She tries to cover her body With her red see through lingerie Her black hair covering her mascara streaked eyes He kneels down in front of her Pushing away her hair His eyes searching hers And holding t - See more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems/best/prostitution#sthash.sUgRRSgj.dpuf

a fine day for hypocricy that is or isn't theirs

A steady flow of regulars, some more fresh of face
others terrified to even rid of her her lace
Descending down the carpet, guilt and shame and God forbid -
pray mum, the wife or clergyman won't find out what you did!

Neon lights they sizzle from the sign above her room
her nightly ritual smelling of cigars and French perfume
A quiet word of warning for the older gentlemen - 
to watch the threadbare carpet as they head back down again

A rowdy few, a roughland gang, can terrify and scare -
she'd scream out loudly for the cops, but they're already there!
Ridicule and nastiness, occasional bad blood -
sometimes the carpet caught their toes to land them with a thud!

A handsome little virgin, trying hard to keep his quest
spent the entire twenty minutes simply laying on her breast
Despite his intact youthful bits and less than manly dare
his feet would never touch a step for walking on pure air!


A copy of The Harlots House lay on her bedside table
Grace became her name and friend as far as it was able
Saw her through the game of mostly staring at the ceiling
a story that walked up the stairs and down with it's own meaning

*sigh*

Farewell soon to this, her means, with earnings vast and mighty
a little house all paid for, from this back street Aphrodite
Carpet colours, piles so thick and patterns to boot
a perfect fit throughout the house, for just her  little foot!

**************************************************

he looks up at the ceiling and wonders How life has changed him - See more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems/best/prostitution#sthash.sUgRRSgj.dpuhard to believe this carpet is just a decade old,  secrets to let free........havana on it's knee