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deepundergroundpoetry.com
Pink in every petal
She's happy with the rose that she's produced:
It's pink in every petal, she can smile,
But recollects that she has been reduced
To fantasies so whorish: undefiled
For several days, she may not last the course;
Or she may stagger on through this neglect;
She dreams she'll feel his hand and love the force,
With which he'll slap her face; then, when erect,
And he has taken from her, a pink flower;
Perhaps her petaled cunt, that is so wet;
She'll think of dew and, at this early hour,
She might be right; though I'll vouch she can get
As damp as any bud; do you suppose
Neglected whores are happy as that rose?
It's pink in every petal, she can smile,
But recollects that she has been reduced
To fantasies so whorish: undefiled
For several days, she may not last the course;
Or she may stagger on through this neglect;
She dreams she'll feel his hand and love the force,
With which he'll slap her face; then, when erect,
And he has taken from her, a pink flower;
Perhaps her petaled cunt, that is so wet;
She'll think of dew and, at this early hour,
She might be right; though I'll vouch she can get
As damp as any bud; do you suppose
Neglected whores are happy as that rose?
Published 23rd Aug 2015
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