see you laying in my garden in your thigh highs
gone girl, scene of a crime
white lines by the wicker basket
engine splutter dies with distance
i let you in, can't stay late
red lipstick, red lights, polidori
the mysterious stranger, the vampyre
creased pages, (stolen) flowers
crushed in my h.p lovecraft collection.
desaturated orchids, daisies, withered, dead as draught
the burgundy roses cut, cut deep, blood on my fingertips.
shouldn't have stemmed it. beautiful
but violent, hurt mistaken for love.
you suck my wounds clean, your lips wrapped around my knuckles
that damned spot; this is no perfect crime.
you smell of yves saint laurent, pale
and gentle as a plastic bag in the river,
asphyxiating. you're so unpredictable,
american beauty with my camera out
braced for the curtains closed.
razed by your touch, your thighs
you won't let me breathe but that's okay.
know what I like, give it to me,
grip on my hips, enveloped in ultraviolet
your chipped black nail vanish and this bed
the only material things left.
no need to type it out, use your words
but there's a much better use for your mouth.
fresh flowers laid out for the long vanished
i want to be gone with you
like autumn leaves in the gutter
dissipating in plain sight
finding solitude in your darkness
my eyes shut with my face against your shoulder.
YOU ARE READING
you, and my materials.
Puisigive me a few moments of your time so that i can dress you up in poetry give me your eyes, see the world through mine i beg you to be gentle, please have empathy this is your world, on the floor, by the bed like laundry, pick me up and use me. s...
