Whore. (A Poem About Sex Addiction – Part One)

Maybe, I let people inside of me because I feel empty

with no remedy

to the everlasting pain…

I have had more exchanges for relations than I have come across real love,

but,

after a while, you play the game

and pretend that each time is a piece of

what you have always been missing…

Empty.

Does my disregard for self-respect and righteousness make me a whore?

Or, does it show an honest soul looking to find what makes them whole?

Maybe, I’m not alone in the world

as I lay in bed, again and again

forgetting names and remembering shame

maybe, it’s okay,

one day, I will change

or maybe not

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