Yard Sale of Thoughts

Through slated window, I see how she’s grown.

They say a rose is a rose, but she’s a wild one,
a native beauty, a blossom effortlessly reposed.

Bright speck on an erect shrub,
full spread, pink, sweetly fragrant
a rare love requiring nothing
but sun in a common garden.

Petal breasts,
skin uncrushed by touch,
hair like velvet pistons,
voice delicious.
And her laughter,
tiny thorns
that tickle the skin.

She is the more delicate version
of the things I could have been.

Oh, how I yearn to pluck her
while she’s ornamental!
Prick her with a pin.
Stain her petals red with blood.
Erect a shrine
and by her side bury myself in.

But If I got that close,
I’d never smell fragrant again.

©2023 | K.F. Hartless

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Artwork: BLONDE GIRL WITH ROSES (2023)
by Yelena Rybalkina

Written for the Art of Seduction Show and inspired by the following verse:

THE TRIUMPH OF THE FLESH
by: George Moore

We have passed from the regions of dreams and of vision
And the flesh is the flesh and the rose is the rose;
And we see but the absolute joy of the present
In the Sunlight of beauty.

I am filled with carnivorous lust: like a tiger
I crouch and I feed on my beautiful prey:
There is nought in the monstrous world of Astarte
So fair as thy body.

Let me lie, let me die on thy snow-coloured bosom,
I would eat of thy flesh as of delicate fruit,
I am drunk of its smell, and the scent of thy tresses
Is as flame that devours.

Thou art demon and God, thou art hell, thou art Heaven,
Thou art love that is lust, thou art lust that is love,
And I see but the heavenly grace of thy body,
A picture–a poem.