beauty, love, lust, poetry, sex, women

Garden

I tend to you

As though you were a

Garden

My nose to your petals

The sweet juice of you

On my lips

My fingers

At play

At work

Within your soil

Uprooting the choking

Weeds of your anxiety to allow

Fresh growth

Here in all weathers

I watch you bloom

I define and guard

Your growth with

Acceptance and

Discipline your wildness

When it grows past

The point of control

The sun is rising

I sit before you

Wait for your beauty

To revive me

Once

Again

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