Miss Sylvia

In attention to display
There was verve to move closer
Filling, filling
“hungry, hungry”
For his

Lip’s wit, though unsaid
Split between and scattered she
Grasped long,
Full embrace of
His fuck

Prescient, she pulled
Dull bright thing to the skin
To her own
And fled
Fuck it –

To bed

Plastic and pretty
Ain’t she tired of being kind
Attention to the arc
Filling, filling
It bled

Dark light
Seething at the skin of his
Caress
New dread she
Bled hard

Loved red

Pulled her head to the
End – his charisma, and fumes
Coulda said
Screw Ted
Hard life

Silver spoon fed she wrote
She was born to be bred
Plump Venus felt,
But delayed
Life’s wave

Soon dead

A wretch in the womb
Or her mother’s embrace
Lost father
Gone culture
Wave bye

Bare hindsight she told
Surging rolls of her anger
She belched it
Stood in it but
By then

She fled

She had taken the dull thing
Done it in to herself
Such a waste,
Her anger.
Then finished

She fled.