The House of Love


 
 

  

The house of love
 
by Adria Martin
 
 
With high heels and
Long, straight, blond hair,
With too much
Make up for that hour,
Before leaving the restaurant,
She came by his table,
And wrote him
A cheap rhyme on a napkin
Then below, a cell number
Which he called,
To end up his insomnia.
Her cheap place
Looked far from a home
But then, that was
Maybe not her home,
But the house of love.
He paid, he had love.

No wounds, no hassle,
No rejections and
No questions asked.
What you need
Is what you get.
But then
Would his insomnias
Be over?

Jan 22, 2008
Toronto

By adria
 
© 2008 adria (All rights reserved)