Cowards Flowers

Cowards Flowers...

Inherently beautiful and insidiously warm, my man, forever indulging me with very unnecessary gifts.

A black eye for a treat that mimics a purple orchid, presented to form behind the door, in the dark for my birthday, for daring to look up from the floor.

He kissed me once, with his bare knuckles, leaving pretty blue and purple bruises like faded violets and showered me with pretty pink butterflies with scarlet veins running through them, on my nose and broken cheekbone.

Touched me, most tenderly with a tight fist, offering a split lip, a real blood-red rose with crimson frilly dark edges, a special present for valentines, such presents' of antagonised love.

Tells me to be more sociable, says we should get out more.

So he can feed his clandestine anger and administer more gifts of unrequited love upon our return for daring to look in the face of the opposite sex.

Gives me great big bunches on fierce -red flowers on those days, like giant hibiscus blooms, sprawled across my back, arms and legs, they are for special occasions only those particular flowers.

Flowers of brutality, cowards flowers , no scent, only laced with fear and conjuring a cowering victim for the pleasure of raining blows.

I hate flowers, he says I should be grateful!

 

 

 

Cowards Flowers...

Inherently beautiful and insidiously warm, my man, forever indulging me with very unnecessary gifts.

A black eye for a treat, it mimics a purple orchid, presented to me from behind the door, in the dark for my birthday, for daring to look up from the floor.

He kissed me once, with his bare knuckles, leaving pretty blue and purple bruises like faded violets and showered me with pretty pink butterflies with scarlet veins running through them, on my nose and broken cheekbone.

Touched me, most tenderly with a tight fist, offering a split lip, a real blood-red rose with crimson frilly dark edges, a special present for valentines, such presents of antagonised love.

Tells me to be more sociable, says we should get out more.

So he can feed his clandestine anger and administer more gifts of unrequited love upon our return; for daring to look in the face of the opposite sex.

Gives me great big bunches of fierce -red flowers on those days, like giant hibiscus flowers, sprawled across my back, arms and legs, they are for special occasions only, those particular flowers.

Flowers of brutality, cowards flowers , no scent, only laced with fear and conjuring a cowering victim for the pleasure of raining blows.

I hate flowers, he says I should be grateful!