Colonial colours are standing tall, as your frustrated fingers fidget inside mine, leaning up against the wall, in front of the flag pole, you kiss me, like you wish we were alone, unrestricted, unrelenting. I can taste your true desires, hearing the unspoken words as our bodies grow increasingly and irresistibly close.

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…