Back To What You Know

It’s all fine, all in my head, they saidChill out love, it’s just banterWhen lewd comments of nude breasts ariseNonsense! Must be her mensesThere is no end to the whispered murmursBecause I don’t get his sense of humorSo rude but I get it, I’m just a prude.Baby you take me higher, the lad saidMy lover My supplierI won’t stir things up, remain passiveAnd let it passNothing stirred except the laden airPent with hidden emotions.Might be beaten and bruised but continues in the kitchenTo serve him a platter of buttered chicken,His second favorite batter.Love doesn’t reside here anymoreArdent still I remain, like a sob without tearswith the radiating beauty of fragrant flowers;the purity of the flame where flawless diamonds are consumedPunctuated with the passion of suicides who kill themselves without explanation nor chanceA mistress in a trance;Keep me hardKeep me in the kitchenKeep me out of politics