There are poppies peeking from the roads we used to go down, beauty built from the blood that you spilled, swaying with smiles in the sun. They survived a cruel winter, reborn in the cool spring air, tattooed by your temper, but still stunning, sunning and smiling, sharing their sweet secrets, as I while away…

You can call me unconsciously, just focus your eyes on the skyline, whisper my name, while you’ve still got time, ask me my secrets and I’ll spin you a line. Call me on our cosmic hotline, call me your Queen, because I rule your mind all the time, our muddy connections still go in a…