When I Was A Flower

 

I was exquisite petals.

Pink, dewy, delicate.

Your fingers opened me,

coaxed me into full bloom,

until I reddened with color,

dripped with honeyed nectar,

decorous with feminine plushness;

a gleaming pistil,

a pulsing filament.

 

I was this radiant bouquet,

rosy blossoms

in your artful hands.

 

I was a pretty ache,

geranium-scented,

my breasts budding,

legs spread,

hips splayed,

wet and open,

resplendent.

I was garlanded

with your kisses.

Adorned, adored;

I flowered.