what it takes to grow.

I wanted into the cult of pleasure  
with her red fig mouth split open for me  
but there were nervous moments.  
I think I stayed seventeen too long  
and too many of my fingers stayed sticky,  
uncleaned, marred with years of pollination  
and two lips pressed together.  

I decide the fate of our garden.  
to be like the bee and dutifully rest my head  
I must move on, spread you,  
and carry a part of you too.  

links:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/98ou8i/highway/e4i5w1c/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/98eo5a/the_way_of_spirals_and_circles/e4i64m9/