Nineteen Years

Nineteen years,

sleeping alone.

Before that brief repast,

eleven years more.

Ere that,

eight uncertain,

always left to guess.

~~~~~

Then to discover

a friend counts me never,

but a joke well played,

only late,

the butt discovered.

~~~~~

Belladonna waits outside,

volunteer in the garden,

fully ripe.

You want it removed,

disposed.

But not before

those dark sweet berries

are mine

& I rest

at last supine

in every sense.

~~~~~

Alas, the taste of

but blackberry chocolate,

pokeberries,

purple lips,

purple tongue,

upset tummy,

the smooth flow of blood

& creamy brown

all night long.

~~~~~

My just due

for ever thinking

I could leave you.