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What's Really a Whore?
July 27, 2014
I’d tell you a story,
but you haven’t the time.
I’ll keep it short,
‘till next time you’re mine.
I want to hold your hand,
‘cause the feeling is so grand.
I want to grasp your hair,
‘cause it looks soft as air.
But, the thing is
I also want to cut down,
the pink,
the yellow,
the red,
roses in my garden.
And at one time,
I wanted to cut down,
my arms,
my thighs,
my ribs,
‘cause the feeling left me reeling.
Really though,
I think I want you more
than the pollen that make my eyes red
and my heart sore.
© Molly M., Palmdale, CA
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