FEVERED FLOWER - MY MEN...

I was born broken

On a caramel-colored day

In a secret cloud

Out - of - the - night

In fire-fly time

To vast eterniity

I'm blushed with wild candy.

My heart magic

Is poison poetry

Self-smiling pictures

Desiring decay.

The corduroy rhythm

Of a naked fool

You voice those words

And I'm bleeding for him,

With a smoker's kiss

And a lingering look.

His liquid growl

Still oversexed...

Will god embrace

This concrete peace?

In a useless window;

It's almost a sacred thing.

My men

Are ghosts.

~yvonne renee moore