I tell you mournfully, that you don’t understand me at all, because I know that you know exactly how to show me that you do, and maybe that’s a little bit cruel, but I take my cues from how life has treated me, and I know that you know that too. You told me that…

The sun has set, and she has a long way to go before we’ll see her again. We are dressed up, in the dark, with only candlelight for company, and the soft whispers of the ebony and ivory underneath your flurried fingertips. Our hips are touching, just gently, but there is electricity on the seat…

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…