Loving a Slut

Best is when she turns off the lights

The subtle grace of her,

Falls nonchalantly on the drapes

The mangled locks, worn and rugged

From a day of being a slut

From a day of being fondled and played with

I trusted love and fell for her

Yes, I was in love with a slut

I know she won’t love me for free

Won’t hug me and sit with me on a tree

Dangle her legs down with me

And her hopes, on me

The slut won’t

But I am in love with the woman beneath

The one whose tears hit the floor

When she is all alone by her fireside

The one who keeps her father’s picture in her bag

The one who misses being a girl she once was

I wish I could come on a white horse

And take her away

But I just did not have the balls

To risk my pride

Lest I were to give it in her hands

And she did not ride

As the night fell upon her

She drew away from the window

It’s her time to go to work

She would come back early morning

Eyes wet, feet heavy

Distraught and fallen

I took a deep breath, puffed up my chest

A wreath of red roses, for my pretty girl

I knocked, but the door gave way

She lay by the hearth, her skin a shade of steel grey

Spangled like a star, she lay there in a sorry state

To my love, I had come a moment too late