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I met you on the corner
Of a lonely street,
My skimpy clothes leaving me exposed
To the cold wind of the night.

You wound down your car window
Promised you could keep me warm,
I tried to tell you
“I’m not that kind of girl”
You smirked, and told me to get in.

Talk is cheap
Sex was cheaper.

I was thrown back out on the streets,
I should have known
All he wanted was a private show.
Colder than before
[But somewhat richer]
I headed for home
To scrub myself clean.
©2005-2009 ~idareyoutoforget
:iconidareyoutoforget:

Author's Comments

[but sex is cheaper]
the story of an unintentional whore.

Comments


love 0 0 joy 0 0 wow 0 0 mad 0 0 sad 0 0 fear 0 0 neutral 0 0
:iconmadamzuzu:
". . . nothing could be more grotesquely unjust than a code of morals, reinforced by laws, which relieves men from responsibility for irregular sexual acts, and for the same acts drives women to abortion, infanticide, prostitution, and self-destruction."
:iconsaturnsrevolution:
Hm. I can't quite put into words why I like this, but I really do.

--
If I should die tomorrow,
No tears would I shed,
For I've been alive forever,
Always wanting to be dead.
:iconrandomoo:
Eek. This gave me the shivers =( Powerful words!

--
I'll be the waterwings that save you if you start drowning
in an open tab when your judgment's on the brink.
I'll be the phonograph that plays your favorite
albums back as you're lying there, drifting off to sleep.

the postal service is love.
:icononnerable:
Wow!
You just keep blowing me away!
Keep it up.:)

--
Germaine Lamar♂♥♀

Details

August 11, 2005
686 bytes
22.4 KB
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