The Hooker
The Hooker
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.