Poem

The grind is hot

Sex , but love do we not

Money remains in the pot

Brothel it is , so they thought

Intercourse yes, NO to tying the knot

Burning sensation like meat in the crockpot

John is a guy and Rebecca the thot

Nothing real here , whiskey tango and foxtrot

Poet knows how to not fuck up and I know the trick to fuck up.

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