deepundergroundpoetry.com
too hard to love
when you pay for sex, sometimes you get more than sex.
a hooker who isn’t in a hurry has a good story to tell, & I
like to listen.
this particular girl of the fringe had rustic hair & ample
breasts that felt good in my hands. her nipples & the circles
around them were dark sienna; nipples that were long & hard
when I chewed them, almost like rubber.
‘you can kiss me if you want,’ she said, it was an invitation
to the passionate woman in her, protected territory. most
prostitutes won’t make their passion available. so we kissed
& it was very good, in that it was a precious commodity.
akin to her heart.
under the sheets, the sex was a sustained rhythm, as I drove
the samaritan highway of her to the release of my burden. it
was worth the cost of a harlot, but she had lost her specialness;
one pussy is very much like any other, I guess.
and that’s not an insult to women.
when a woman makes love (if that’s not her daily business),
she does it with her whole being, not just the Hermosa between
her thighs. she gives as much of herself as she can to every
lover she takes. if it can’t be called love, then it’s something
that the gods refused to name. it’s the tapestried essence of a
woman. I learned it from them.
as I dressed, she removed some things from her purse to deposit
the money. one item was a knife. it didn’t bother me, we were
comfortable with each other, but I asked her what it was for.
her eyes got hard: whore-hard, fierce. ‘it’s for the fucking pigs
who think they can get rough with me!’ she didn’t elaborate, &
I didn’t press.
‘a man hit me once,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he did it because
I’m a whore, or because I’m a woman.
yeah. I know what she meant…
(Art: Jeff Bark)
Published 19th Feb 2016
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 15
reading list entries 0
comments 7
reads 1588
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
20th Feb 2016 00:33am
as I drove
the samaritan highway of her to the release of my burden
- loved this..once again you had wrapped up in the moment, loving the stories that you tell!
the samaritan highway of her to the release of my burden
- loved this..once again you had wrapped up in the moment, loving the stories that you tell!
20th Feb 2016 00:37am
Hard not to love such Awesome poetry...gritty and gripping ink..I truly enjoyed!!
20th Feb 2016 2:14am
when a woman makes love (if that’s not her daily business),
she does it with her whole being, not just theHermosa between
her thighs. she gives as much of herself as she can to every
lover she takes. if it can’t be called love, then it’s something
that the gods refused to name. it’s the tapestried essence of a
woman. I learned it from them.
This blew my mind!
John, you're the best!
Love it 😊
she does it with her whole being, not just theHermosa between
her thighs. she gives as much of herself as she can to every
lover she takes. if it can’t be called love, then it’s something
that the gods refused to name. it’s the tapestried essence of a
woman. I learned it from them.
This blew my mind!
John, you're the best!
Love it 😊
She's one tough cookie! Men make us that way... i just love this scene... you always capture the essence of truism in such a piercing way, impressive for sure... xoxo blue angel
Anonymous
21st Feb 2016 7:31am
Excellence in every stanza. You are a natural story teller. An intelligent observer of life. Always a pleasure to read you.
Thanks :)
Thanks :)
21st Feb 2016 6:51pm
one item was a knife. it didn’t bother me, we were
comfortable with each other, but I asked her what it was for.
her eyes got hard: whore-hard, fierce. ‘it’s for the fucking pigs
who think they can get rough with me!’ she didn’t elaborate, &
I didn’t press.
‘a man hit me once,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he did it because
I’m a whore, or because I’m a woman.
yeah. I know what she meant…
This is hard writing... I love it
geoff
comfortable with each other, but I asked her what it was for.
her eyes got hard: whore-hard, fierce. ‘it’s for the fucking pigs
who think they can get rough with me!’ she didn’t elaborate, &
I didn’t press.
‘a man hit me once,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if he did it because
I’m a whore, or because I’m a woman.
yeah. I know what she meant…
This is hard writing... I love it
geoff
Anonymous
23rd Feb 2016 4:59am
Reading your poetry is like stepping into the privacy's of your public mind; I am grateful each time to indulge in such provocative excursions, and without the threat of feeling uninvited. . .~xo, Devlin/Doll.
