...

A hooker is not a whore.
She is what she is and no more.
She lingers on the streets
like we long to let it bleed;
She masquerades
but otherwise has no face,
unless you name her.

You can be witty -
dirty, drunk in sorrow,
like clowns repenting tomorrow-
none of it is shared.

When passion is corrupted,
baseless energy misguided,
and your screams turn into a whimper,
maybe you can even thank her.