Black ribbon
needs driven
stockings and suspenders
it’s mad our endless drive
for sex
black rimmed specs
A sexually active secretary
bends into an awkward pose
one you have chose
to fore fill your fantasy
Baring all
her vulva a coin slot
waiting for an offering
her ass like a forbidden fruit
In which to shoot
Your shot
your seed
in a garden of need.
Tears dry up easily
but my love is still fragility
I tend to my life like a garden
but sometimes you just have to let it grow
even the with the weeds you know aren’t good
life is better when we are understood
and sometimes we have to accept
the trauma that lies dormant
except for times of stress
when it grows nevertheless.
I have no roots
my beauty isn’t even soil deep
I lie in the water of tears I have wept
kept until I die a rotten death
you shouldn’t have cut me from my home
broken stems all alone
this is me dead
all the colours of garden lost in my head.