Harlot© - Poem by Sylvia Perry
Tides of intuition eroding shores of inhibition, the slut in me rises to the occasion and apprehensions exit.
Behind weary eyes seduction strives and fear makes its presence known. Reproduction is introduced.
Implementing investments of coquettish violation.
Trysts of multiple infractions of fatal attractions.
Generous donations of a hooker.
Pretentious sex offenders.
Established mile high club members.
Wicked tongue provoking cherry plum to Kingdom CUM THY WILL BE DONE.
Lust inspired anthems of resurrection conversing odes of perseverance to my horny.
Reciting interpretations of amazing grace. Hadn’t I worn panties there would be a constant flow of honeysuckle trickling down the back of calf.
Stream spilling into subsequence.
Accumulating into puddles of circumstance & consequence.
Cold sweats on frequent trips to Zion.
Rubbing the same shoulders that I come to cry on.
I cloak you in fabric of hope.
My demons the designer.
The only way to cope is by draining my mimosa between sheets of Egyptian cotton. Body in auction.
A matrix of sexual predicament
Where integrity leaked.
Inside my tunnel of alluring femininity collateral peeked.
You make wrong feel so right.
I was proud to be your whore!
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