I am of the poetic heart and tender inclinations
Unlike the Queen bee who will accept any old drone
due to the biological and reproductive imperative
(that evil, evil, little fucking blonde tart;
this little Queen is extremely discerning and only has
a place in her heart for that one and only special bee.
The nectar of love and life is for him and him alone.
The fundamental motivation of this Queen is not
pleasures of the flesh ~ they are only a bonus to her
true nature, which is to be with her soul’s desire, her
eternal mate, her confidante; the drone who compliments
her being and enriches her existence.
He might think that he has to perform to a standard,
but he assumes wrong!
This Queen values soul and spirit over sexual prowess.
SO, BEWARE DRONE!
You may have to re assess your way of thinking.
Your value lies not so much in what you do,
but in who you intrinsically are!
This Queen knows your value.
Now as her mind dies
how frequent were
his wrong doings
and his grief is palpable
Her delicate feminine wrist
once cracked through his torment
Now as her memory fades
and his recaptures,
he holds it tenderly
weeping at its beauty
Little did he realise
as the brandy, burning
splashed his eyes
as her anger peaked
with his surprise,
that in thirty years
her flame would die
and with her empty shell
he would lie
eyes still burning
brandy-less, they cry
When the atmosphere lends itself, the ghost ship may sometimes be chanced at low tide. It appears like a mirage on the horizon, a harbinger of mystery and conjecture as we stride before the wind on our deserted foreshore.