A short skirt and heels
Is his heart’s desire.
She sighs,
Feels objectified
But complies
For the fire
Must be lit
And the money split
With one who
Loves her true.
A Kind Of Love
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A Kind Of Love
She wraps me in her warm embrace.
In her face, a kind of grace.
We race
Towards our goal,
To be whole,
For a moment one.
Then it is gone.
We dress and move on.
K Morris - Poet 