deepundergroundpoetry.com

Mistress

Your lady perches
On a rusty throne
Broken and ugly
Her vigilant, swollen eyes always
Watching me…every move
Waiting for one more
Moment of disparity,
The edgy scepter of doubt,
So she can move in
Be your savvy she devil
With the razor studded whip
Her grip
Brutally stitched
To your marrow
Your central nervous system
Your mangled spine.    
I imagine one day
I’ll open the door
And she’ll be there
With a glass of whiskey
And a barrel of bullets
She’ll pull the trigger
Because she loves you...
Without causing a tremor or ripple
In her glass
Of Windsor Canadian North American Whiskey.  
Written by Virginiapetal
Published
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