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The Hooker

The Hooker

1 min 277 1 min 277

I kissed a hooker once

And her lips didn’t taste like the street,

The warmth in her palms felt like home

A broken, unkempt yet welcoming home

One with small lights

And haunted by the aroma of cheap wine and cheese


We fucked in the backseat of my mustang,

The stars trying to peak through the windshield,

There were slow breathing and soft moans

And our sweaty skin pressed against each other

With the windows rolled down and the trees dancing outside

And the radio playing Between The Bars


I buried my face in her chest

And inhaled her scent

She caressed my hair

Often placing her lips on my forehead and kissing hard.

My eyes were closed 

And the sun was climbing out from behind the mountains


I knew time wasn’t on my side today

I lifted myself up and grabbed my wallet

Slowly taking out three $100 bills

She placed her hand on mine

And her fingers wrapped around my cold palm

I could see it in her hazel eyes, she doesn’t want the money, she wants to stay a bit longer.


I kissed a hooker once

And her lips didn’t taste like the street

But her body felt like home.

A broken, unkept, small but welcoming home.


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