The Whoreflower

My role is clear in the
Virgin, Whore dichotomy.
I stand beneath the red lights
in your mind, waiting.
Stop trying to save me.
And, please, stop trying
to enslave me.
Your words are chains,
And my defiance will shatter them,
As you once shattered me.
A lotus,
Splashed with cyanide.
Fractured in the sanguine illumination;
Yet unbroken.

Summer

In the shining August,
Slick with honest sweat,
I lay, chest heaving, on the floor
And smiled to be alive
In spite of you.