I do not consider myself a ***** in the biblical sense as I can count the suitors that have shared my bed on one hand.
For it is my soul that is the harlot.
Allowing anyone to use it as they wish if only for just a night taking prices as they go.
Hoping one day someone will leave something in return.
Surly the fear of loneliness can't be so strong that I believe this is a better way to live then facing the world on my own.
Then saving the precious piece of me that is my soul for the one that truly deserves it.
Or is it the fact that I believe that I am not worthy of that person, that if such a person were to come along will I be ready to accept them as such?
These questions have no answer.
So for now here I sit here hoping that if the day comes there will be something left to offer...

Isolophobia
Starting over one more time..
Will the thought of you ever leave my mind?
The relationship scintillating as the sun
I truly thought had just begun.
Every touch I was all aquiver.
The first touch even, you yourself said I was like a river.
A love I found in you..
Please believe that much is true!
I’ve never felt this way I do with you.
My heart bleeds the darkest blue.
Will this be a satisfying denouement
Only you know kind Sir, I called Papa. .

Isolophobia,
Isolated as my main -phobia,
Is heating up with an incendiary rush.

I gather all my plush
And talk about the lush
Who doesn't really live next door,
But I'd rather they not be bored
With my lack of dialogue.

I distract myself;
I clean the kitchen, I fix the shelf
That's been crooked for weeks,
I notice that my life has peaked
And I gather all my plush again.

Every story has an end,
And as I approach it, I choke.
I speak of how I'm completely broke,
And it's when they ask me, "Why?"
Do I realize that I have no control
And it's my lack thereof
That is driving me insane.

I bury myself inside my head,
Forever being alone instead
Of losing the ones I love again.
Every story has an end,
And as I approach it, I choke.