paying for sex
is like working for money
the give and the take
balance out in the end
dishonest transactions
in "normal" relationships
acting the lover
not even a friend
you offered so little
that i nearly drowned
in the bullshit i spouted
to cover the sound
of the silence you brought me
and emptiness too
when will i stop paying
for sleeping with you
Poems For My Analyst by Wayne Myers