Yellow scented thoughts

Perhaps she was just the broken shards of self

dispersed on summer winds in naked abandonment

the shattered remains of soul

devoured by egos for the indulgent.

Perhaps she was petals, silk and smooth

fragrant, promiscuous the embodiment of lust,

a vivid rainbow of desire, teasing,

tantalising her prey with every thrust.

Or perhaps she was the breeze,

the rays of morning light

perhaps she was so delicate

she became lost within the night.

Karen Hayward ©2018

Image and words

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