to love him

 

to love him is to accept an inevitable fate

the lingerie I hang on his mind’s clothesline

billow in the autumnal breeze

gentle reminders of past-tenses

my body’s poetry writing itself

posthumously

sexual potential bleeding

onto our bed sheets

like a broken pilot pen

to love him is to accept a tourniquet

in the form of the american dream

life, liberty and the pursuit of….

auto erotic asphyxiation

a.duncan, 2016

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Amor et melle et felle est fecundissimus || Love is rich with both honey and venom

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