“You spend money on me a
lot,
Some needlessly, some
lavishly,
Some to my embarrassment
too.
It’s nothing to you, the
rich
But to me it turns out
an itch.
It’s like you’re paying
me for sex.
It’s like you’re
treating me a whore,
I wish I’d discouraged
you.”
“Out of love I spend on
you, dear.
Out of passion I spend
on you.
Spending on you is my pleasure.
It is more so and on
increase
For it’s on one who
expects not
Anything from me in
return
To the sex offered out
of love.
You aren’t a whore, my
love’s core.”
03.12.2012
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