SO HERE’S YOUR BOUQUET, OKAY?

I handed her a bouquet of hurtful words
Hand picked by fingers that held her wretchedly by the throat
That bouquet was formed by selfishness alone’
And then she placed that bouquet in a vase of the unknown
For she was too young to understand that an older man does underhanded deeds unforeseen
And has the wherewithal to become horrid and so wickedly mean
While I was being welcomed into places she had never been
Until that bouquet began to wither
And the weather dried her garden of the unthinkable
To be left with useless seeds and her hunger for needs I could never meet
Yet and still those impotent seeds could never allow my love to grow
Nor flourish midst the heat nor the frost
For this young girl ‘s first love had come at a quite cost
And in the death of the winter was the lady lost
I was her teacher, her mentor and her guru atop a mountain of mud
For the tenderness of my touch once warmed her blood
While strength led to fortitude and fortitude to farewell
And the garden from which I ;picked the bouquet came upon a deadly dry spell
Which pierced her soul leaving behind but a a weak and weeping shell
I felt no remorse nor regret for her first lover could not have been worse
So I escaped to a more suitable neighborhood
A man who left with vows retracted
For a man, in retrospect who I know never did the little lady any type of good
That bouquet of hurtful words led to my adieu
Since that is what a junkie is made to do
© 2011 ~free cee!~

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