Back To What You Know

It’s all fine, all in my head, they said

Chill out love, it’s just banter

When lewd comments of nude breasts arise

Nonsense! Must be her menses

There is no end to the whispered murmurs

Because I don’t get his sense of humor

So rude but I get it, I’m just a prude.

Baby you take me higher, the lad said

My lover My supplier

I won’t stir things up, remain passive

And let it pass

Nothing stirred except the laden air

Pent with hidden emotions.

Might be beaten and bruised but continues in the kitchen

To serve him a platter of buttered chicken,

His second favorite batter.

Love doesn’t reside here anymore

Ardent still I remain, like a sob without tears

with the radiating beauty of fragrant flowers;

the purity of the flame where flawless diamonds are consumed

Punctuated with the passion of suicides who kill themselves without explanation nor chance

A mistress in a trance;

Keep me hard

Keep me in the kitchen

Keep me out of politics

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