My Beloved.

My love, as the still light shines on your lice
Ah, I smell the onions matted on your breath.
What else? Your nose hairs are threads to soon slice,
And when I leave I thank god I didn’t retch.

My beloved, a shore of love passes through me
When I do catch whiff of your gastro winds,
They move like the barnacles on your knees
Oh, as I stroke the maggots off your skin!

Your eyes are red as a blowfly’s
Your ears are clouded with wax opaque spots
Your lips hoofed with your special spoiled meat pie
Beloved, you smell worse than Death’s trots.

As I lie in bed and think, lord what else?
My chest rises in warbling warmth and I melt.

© 2020 All Rights Reserved.

2/06/2020: Originally written for The Weekly Terrible Poetry Contest.

2/14/2021: Reposted for Ingrid’s Sonnet Sunday.

Happy VD day!

47 thoughts on “My Beloved.”

    1. Hahaha! I agree with you. I think I’d faint if I actually wrote like this.
      I also wasn’t too sure if my poem was terrible enough, but now I feel more assured it is. 😀


  1. “Cupid needs to pull out the real arrows after catching wind of your attempts.”

    —You took this perhaps a little too literally…🤣.

    That was funny. What a partner!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Blegh, love poems, definitely not my specialty! This is proof of that. 😀

      Hahaha, but really, thank you. I do like love poems actually, but only when they’re really unique, you know?

      Liked by 1 person

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