06 August 2009

[Poetry] Art vs. Passion

Beautiful honey-colored sun-kissed legs hugged by black four-inch stillettos wrapped around portable brass.
Eyes penetrating deep like two lovers creating a new generation.
She doesn't love you as much as you believe.
Her love lies deep in the hidden folds of your wallet.

For all you have, her hips will sway rhythmically to the beat of your heart.
Bare breasts and clothed pectorals press together like lips concealing a secret.
Fragile baby doll hands glide up and down in and out of flowered lady parts.
Naked eye meets naked body like old friends reunited.
Forbidden territory permits two to touch.

Passionate eyes falsely tell you that she wants you. That she loves you. That she needs you.
Tomorrow, at the grocery store, she won't acknowledge you.
A dance solely for you goes unrecognized beyond the borders of the smoke-filled club.

Stripping, for her, is an art, not her passion.


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