deepundergroundpoetry.com
Les Femmes Lāche
Thigh highs ... stiletto heels clicking
street walking beauties smelling like
cheap perfume ... and ... degradation
Silently, he watched as they lined up
hand picked and hand sorted, beckoning
clients from car windows
There she stood, skirt hiked up
cold soaked whore of the night
her scent
Of desperation fermenting
like a dark bordeaux, uncorked,
waiting to be tasted
He advanced
The sharp steel of his blade
the only introduction needed
He spoke of freedom
impenetrable darkness
dreams sweet as vintage port
He spoke of all this
while the point of his blade
traced the outline of her shame
Pushed up against the wall,
stripped whipped fucked
taken to the extreme
She cried the acrid taste
of her tears
turned
to
fine
wine
~Wicked
street walking beauties smelling like
cheap perfume ... and ... degradation
Silently, he watched as they lined up
hand picked and hand sorted, beckoning
clients from car windows
There she stood, skirt hiked up
cold soaked whore of the night
her scent
Of desperation fermenting
like a dark bordeaux, uncorked,
waiting to be tasted
He advanced
The sharp steel of his blade
the only introduction needed
He spoke of freedom
impenetrable darkness
dreams sweet as vintage port
He spoke of all this
while the point of his blade
traced the outline of her shame
Pushed up against the wall,
stripped whipped fucked
taken to the extreme
She cried the acrid taste
of her tears
turned
to
fine
wine
~Wicked
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