my reputation precedes

black hole cheekbones

wildflowers for eyes

born of addictive bloodlines

resolute in an organic rebellion

that is purely my own

wild like a drunken moon

chasing what if’s and very soon’s

passionate as cleopatra

on egyptian aphrodisiac’s

enraged by the suggestion

of patience, of quiet and resolute piety

I speak in storms

and separation anxiety

doesn’t he know? 

I’m turned on 

by art nouveau

by riddles with no answers

infatuated with the blend

(in my own head)

of fairytales and film noir

hitchcock and the huntsman

rear windows and dungeons

I make strict demands

on intellect and loyalty

but I always make amends

in the form 

of submissive positions 

and apologetic kisses

I belong to him

but he doesn’t quite believe

the reason, you see?

my reputation precedes

a.duncan, 2018




Artwork: Kelli Ali, Kiss me Cleopatra

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"She would fill endless notebooks with stories about the characters in her life, their impressions, words, friends, lovers, inspirations, fantasies. She spent her days dreaming up worlds where they fit together in visions; the if only, the never again, the someday. Those who knew her best would describe her as a creature with a clear and sometimes painful sense of herself; furious with ideas and convictions, to a point that she frightened love away with discernment and a relentless strength of character."

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