Pretty pocket liner to cradle those pennies for your thoughts
A cent for your sin; a penny for your pleasures
Write them sweetly with your tongue on mine, metallic taste
My fingers in that pretty pocket of yours to make a deposit
The change in your pocket not enough for your heart
Pump metallic, loveless
The metal I have gifted you not enough for the words
Whisper quickly, dishonest
Pretty pillow to lay those lips of yours I so love
A cushion for your kiss; a base for your bite
Taste them afterward, salty like my skin
Left shiny with the sweat from your tongue and lips
The pillow on your lips not enough to keep them soft
Kiss me, roughly
The cushioned bite not enough to earn it sweetly
Tell me, mean it
The rich do not love the fainthearted
"I don't love you, honey."
The cold do not love the colder still
"I don't love you either, my dear."
....since we're lying.
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