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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 20, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: April 20, 2017



Ye lady,
Of my heart’s desire 
walk past me 
with lips red of fire 
black heels
short skirts 
and knee length boots 
short cropped  tops
which bare thou fruits

With money
I therefore offer 
Only notes accepted 
No copper 
Or silver 
In exchange
For degraded skin
To fulfil my needs 
And end my whim 

Who is the lady
that lies prostrate here?
With smile that bares 
Altered cheer
That hides behind
her torrid fears 
Which in turn does steer 
Into this unholy of tasks
Which I have to ask 
To quell this itch 
That I cannot scratch 
At home 
So to the streets 
These bones shall roam

I lay there in the pales
 Of skin 
A crimson bra locks flesh within 
A temptress site to behold 
The crevice
many heads have roamed 

I looketh past hair of blonde 
And see blue eyes
that don’t respond
yet deep within thy hearts desire 
you long for love 
to lighten fire 

But as you layeth
in thy bed 
your beautified 
with lips of red 
my fingers on skin 
softly tread
rounded curves 
coos and ahhs 
are softly heard 
from supple lips 
from which sweet 
is softly sipped

I quell the itch
that burns within
I taketh from thy 
Porcelain skin
Dampen your fire 
That once burned within
I quelled my fire 
with your fair skin 

It is not love 
I had to offer
Just use of body 
In exchange for notes 
Not of copper
For which I leave 
On bedroom side 
I see the shame behind 
Sullen eyes 
I took her pride 
And left a shell 
Her inner beauty 
Left locked In hell

So I ask 
Why on earth 
Do you do this task? 
Taketh money 
To pleaseth man
And she replied 
With tear filled eye 
It’s just an means to an end 
My dignity gone 
I no longer defend 
I no not of other ways 
To pay my bills 
That mounteth 
day by day 
So my body I selleth
To my dismay 
And with skin I pay
To pave my way
This is how I live 
From day to day 

© Copyright 2019 J A OVERTON. All rights reserved.

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