“You are a Sensual Flower
in the midst of a
transparent bouquet.”
I will always be your rose;
I have been yours forever.
you are my enslavement.
A smirk on your face,
you watch the tramps
who primp and prance
unashamedly before you.
Sluts and whores
bounce silicon tits
in your face.
Jezebels and jades
beg you to own them.
You only crave them
until you fuck them
then cast them aside
like the pitiful
leeches they are.
A selection of colours,
flavours and genres
parade themselves.
They don’t love you.
It’s not you they want.
You are the trophy
until the next game
presents itself.
Trashy wenches
wearing cheap perfume
and ruby red lipstick
sit on your lap and
grind their filthy cunts
against you.
I see their dirty hands
undo your zipper and
touch what is mine.
I watch you let them.
Clearly, We are Us,
yet poison petals
dance between us
as if I was invisible;
then look back at me
with a face that says
“I can have him anytime.”
I know they are right.
I look away to hide tears
that prick my eyes.
I’m the only one
who loves you.
Am I forgotten
or dismissed
in your moments of reverie?
Will you ever afford me the
exaltation you promised me?
I have no use for jealousy
but the wanton flirtations
I witness, crack my heart.
When they are yours,
despair fractures my soul.
Will you ever be content
with only me?
DAMN YOU!
You are supposed to be
MINE!
Is it imagined
that If I don’t see it,
it didn’t happen?
Oh, I know it happens.
I see it in your eyes
when you look away
from mine.
I say nothing because
I can’t risk losing you.
There may again come a time
when you love me.
© Trinket ~ 2016.
