Sitting on her throne she hopes
That one day he’ll be happy
Redoutable fears
Rather than smeared in the
Emotional excrement of sadness
Owning his body he is
In charge of not simping around
Putting people on pedestals
Is a dangerous game
Excessive devotion
Self reciprocating
Only a crack in the door
Peaking through the
Crescent light
Lay down the laws
Of course to break them
Castrate the cruel indifference
Take hold of what is wanted
Like a knife to cut a piece
Of fruit if but to place it
On his tongue
Some sense of majesty
Would proclaim happiness
All the same at the corners
Of a curled up smile
Sensuality as money
More than silver
Some lover to pity
Or discover more than
What money is worth in
A bassinet of candlelight
Waking up is more rich
In the presence of such
Crimson bliss than
All the money in the world
Unparalleled unperished
Inner warmth
Très cher
© GÄ
Poétique 