As I Looked Down on the WhoreMature

An anger fuelled poem retelling a night of passion.

The moment we had waited for…

It had come(Excuse the pun)

There she lay flat on her back

Me there poised just after the attack

 

Memories of her

 

Screaming with joy

Asking for more

“Harder, deeper, faster”

I had gave her my all

An arm deep

 

Relentless as she began to weep

Heavy breaths were made pleas

Matched by his

 

As we laid there

Tangled up, prickled by her pubic hair           

I saw that look in her eye

Together we felt so high

 

Who could ask for more?

Only a whore.

The End

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