Prostitute - Poem by Jonny Brackney

she walks in
smiling.
curvaceous waves
of terror.
i stand there
like a coward,
breathing her perfume.
bleeding awkward
silence
she'll bandage
with her
lips.

the thought is relentless:
she doesn't
WANT
to be here.
a shame overwhelming...

my lust conquers the
beast.

paying for her
isn't disenchanting
in the least.