Whore

She rejoices,
3, 218 choices,
By combinations from articles of clothing she reads with her eyes,
She dresses, scurries, to the 6 foot mirror, she agrees with the way the fabric traces her thighs,
She grabs her makeup for beauty creation,
First, the foundation of expectations,
Second, the blush of vanity,
Third, blackening eyebrows with artistic adeptness,
Fourth, gray lipstick for instilling mystery,
The toil of the illusionist!

To town, with whorish friends, all different in attractiveness, all different masks,
1,2,3 a fourth glass–
Stings the throat,
Jabs and pokes at her fragile structure, no coat —
Both cold,
Thankfully some devious guy came to give gold by fabric jacket,
Grab it, sip it, tag it, snap it,
Snatch it, rip it, tag her, attack it,
A pill in cup, up in throat,
Shhh, keep still and hope,
Ew goody it worked,
She excuses a silly quickly dizzy burp,
Where are her whores?
He grabs her shaking wrist,
To dance and twist about the floor,
She’s weary…

Guidance to apartment,
Close the door,
Flimsy, clumsy, modest whore,
Lift the dress, remove the panties,
Impale by fingers quite handy,
Latex hug, a dive inside,
His voice guides, confirmation with weak head shakes,
His second head hat breaks,
Fun and mistakes,
He came and went,
She woke…a night believed unspent,
2 months later and a bump.

She 1,055 choices,
From combinations of affordable activities she read in articles,
But her childish preferences lied in drink,
Particles of dust from disgust sleep on her heavy tongue,
The night she turned 21 years young.

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