Mary the Prostitue

The day was a bad day.
The man left me sleeping
He didn't want to pay.
Three long years of love
And what have I to my name?
Nothing but my lost virginity
Nothing but this pot of smell.
My heart is simply untouched
By my men's darker lives
They mask as they exit my chamber
Out to the sunlit skies.
Here it is dark and lonely
Here there is no true joy
Men take me for money
Boys want me to employ
To turn their hard earned cash to love
But I can't give love
Nobody can give love
Except he who is love.

I met him one day
I cried and sighed.
My very tears made his feet wet
Desperately I patched them dry
And kissed them.
He sighed.
And told me
To keep my pot of smells
For the day he died.
I cried.
And was finally satisfied.