The [weather] Girl

She's a prude to the eye and a whore to the ear.
The young girl's notes, gathered in a line, are in
the nightstand amidst the handcuffs and patches.
She's lost her shock factor.
Soon everyone will know of the strands of his pubic hair in the closet, semi-figuratively that is. The door is as open as her mouth:
sharing the secrets if you dare to ask.
[if she doesn't answer just talk to them].
She only sits and stares and arches her back as you bite her shoulder.
Her skin is getting colder.
Tell her your of past before she has to ask and her eyes cloud over. She deserves that much.