No Kissing...

She shed her glory
like a tree in autumn fall.
Painted ruby mouth – blushing
over painted sallow skin.
Was it for love – no – never.
A misconstrued secluded sin -
maybe,  but not  anymore.
She provided  they took,
let your own puritan thoughts
put to bed this ageless act.
It was hers to peddle;
though never knowingly under sold.
Always fixed by the price of the street
with her back firm against the wall.
The familiarity of urgency
sold– but always with no kissing.