emc poetry

I’m the queen of my own heart,

you should be begging to be let in

to the ivy palace

I’ve bloomed in

I’m the queen of my body,

it’s sacred to touch it,

mended glass hot to the touch

yours for the night

I’m the queen of my soul,

I tend to the gardens and

grow my affinities

far and wide,

to show you is a privilege…

You’re the king to me,

walking though my halls

along side me

not in front, or behind

taking my hand

making me question

just what it was before

I was so scared of?

-emc