The fragile flowers draped across the stem
Tenderly waft in breeze of quiet day,
Yet they hang not so splendid as the hem
Which puts your pleasant features on display.
I can imagine a delicacy
To trump even the tenderness of blooms,
But I can’t eclipse this hesitancy,
This form which my ferocious fear assumes.
I endure by shamefully unclothing you,
In my mind and bleeding heart, from afar,
Yet my damned morals attempt a coup.
I worry you will find me a bizzare
And pathetic degenerate; I blame
You not, for my stares are sin just the same.
Alexander Eliot gave a fantastic photo for his prompt this week, and I just couldn’t resist!
I was so impressed by this picture that my mind couldn’t come up with prose – that’s literally never happened before. The way the poem took a turn about someone’s unrequited attempts at love initially was supposed to be about someone who loved a person who was dead, but I ended up going into a bit creepier territory.
Anyway, hope you enjoy! 🙂