The Whore
-Slick Jimmy
My body is riddled with
reminders of your kisses.
memories of the depths
of your unknown passion.
Replacing my love
with a desire to hate.
I hate that.
You never remain in thought
but every two weeks.
when I visit your kiss.
It is a tired thing
to be a whore.
Rest your weary head
in my arm. I will remember you.
Always there on my arm.
The guilt. The shame. The passion.
The unknown passion.
It is a heavy weight on my arm.
Too much to bear
Why do I love you.
