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 lucysworks.com 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 responses to “My Beloved.”

  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

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