It was a cold stare
That sent shivers down my spine
An impulse of desire
Washed through every vain
A chaotic room full of stains
A theatre of lechery and tainted innocence
Money thrown at devious whores
You a customer of such vulgar treatment
Me of simple beauty
Lips parted as small whispers
Beat upon my bare neck
Hearts racing at your profound ideas
Your impulsive theories
That spoke of lust and desire
Those simple words that broke
Every moral I believed
Your love was more then a want
It was the air that lingered
When crowds applauded my performance
Your eyes locked onto mine
Backstage is bare like an abandoned house
Creeping silently treading lightly
You hand runs across my chest
Pushing me against a beam
Kissing my lips with  forced passion
Running your slender fingers along my thighs
Speaking of love and truth
My words were yours
My love was for the theatre