Poem for a whore

Christ, the night seems old.
My body seems worn and weak
weakened by the whore beside me.
She had been recommended
and charged a price.
But she had fucked like art
sucked like poetry
screamed like opera
and came like nature.
My cock is flacid now
sticky with cum
mine and hers.
As I idly play with her nipples
and stroke her inner thigh.
She had ridden me like a Valkryie
swallowed me like the night
fingered my ass as a pianist
and kissed me like a saint.
Now she snores like a human
lies like a woman
dreams like a girl.
These are the parts I want
but cannot buy.
Cannot take.
I listen to her snore
and hope she will stay the night.