Goodbye, Charlotte.

Lips pulled back to bear a faux smile
when you find that she’s behind your front door.
In obvious distaste, your eyes don’t meet hers.
And why should they meet who they see as a whore?

You would never sink down to her level,
you wait for her to sink down on you, willing.
You’d tell her upfront this is not how to win love,
but… that’s just not as fulfilling.

Little slut doesn’t charge, but she puts you in.
She doesn’t want your change, but she hopes that you will.

Lips glossed, blue eyes outlined, harlot.
you’re non-plussed, one thing to do, and that is
goodbye, Charlotte.
Kiss her fiery, go to bed, explode a passion, scarlet.
Scrawled in her diary, your name is too much. So long, and
goodbye Charlotte.

You don’t have time for more than this
moment of pleasure, not more than this moment of dread.
You want her to go, she’s still raring to go,
so have one more round with the whore in your bed.

She may want to talk with you, or just hold your hand.
This just isn’t the way you feel she’s employable.
You’d tell her upfront that she can’t have your love,
but… that’s just not as enjoyable.

She turns her back, and wishes that you’d want her.
She doesn’t want you to pay, because she feels she has already.

Lips glossed, blue eyes outlined, harlot.
you’re non-plussed, one thing to do, and that is
goodbye, Charlotte.
Kiss her fiery, go to bed, explode a passion, scarlet.
Scrawled in her diary, your name is too much. So long, and
goodbye Charlotte.

You don’t love her, you don’t need her,
You don’t want her, and you don’t even crave her.
But she’s easy, begging on her knees for answers
and only hears you ask if she could do a guy a favour.

You don’t owe her anything but an explanation.
Under a red light, her eyes are nothing but star-lit,
teary, confused and wistful that you could deceive.
But you just close, and lock the door, and whisper “Goodbye, Charlotte”.