Posted in Prostitution

A hushed lie

A tear drop in my eye,
Turns dry before even,
Touching my skin,
As you grip my waist.
The cold metal of your big ring,
Gives me a tickle,
As your hand moves downward,
In search of more flesh.

Then pushing me away,
You look into my eyes first,
Then at my voluptuous curves,
Draped in a red saree.
With this you sit in the back of your chair.
A signal for me to unveil,
And so I do,
With the finesse of a stripper.
Something I knew not of,
A few years ago.

You gape with your greedy eyes,
An invisible drool,
A deaf roar.
I know what you want,
My experienced nails burying into your back,
My long hair falling on your face,
As you showcase your manhood,
The proof of which,
Is me moaning and sweating.

As a kid I was told I had beautiful lips,
Engaging eyes,
Now no one seemed to notice.
Flesh is chewed off my bones,
Every night.

And this is what I have become,
An untold story,
A hushed lie,
A taboo,
Yet, a reality


5 thoughts on “A hushed lie

  1. Thought I’d just share, as I came across…

    By Amrita Bramho:

    Someone once told me about a man,
    He polished shoes  all his life
    Every hour, every day, he had no wife,
    And then he went to heaven. I, I polish men
    They come to me, uncut blocks of stone 
    I chisel them carefully, my soul’s torn 
    But  there’s  an edge still undone
    A sand papered finger across his jaw
    Blowing gently on his lips, I draw a whiff 
    Of the women he will kiss. I’m stiff
    And weary, there are bags beneath
    my eyes, bags he laces with the sheath
    Of my sleepless nights, as he leaves
    To adorn someone else’s ring,
    As always, I wait for morning.

    Liked by 1 person

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