Garden:

How does my garden grow?

I planted myself a gothic garden

full of black beauties & velvet petunias

On a rooftop Urban Jungle

My pale moonlit skin clashed with the vivid foliage

My slik gown snanged on

the thorns of I love you’s

how appalling-

I mean, appealing

Hands swaying in the wind of 67’ impala

My lips tinted

with black carpenter bee pollen

nibbling on my ear lobe like lambs ear

Til’ the last petal falls,

did he ever really love me at all-

I was gravely mistaken

The catch, the city slicker

never promised me a rose garden

Blindsidedly moving on,

from his sordid, sore loser, sorry ass

I will tend to my own needs,

He will reaps what he sows