La Pe[tit]e Mort

If the day gets sad
come to me
and tug on my second heart.

I’ll treat you a firm, ripe banana
maybe if you behave well
you’ll get to taste my banana shakes.

Please, build a cave
for my desire
then for you I’ll brave
the horrid weather
of bloodied tampons.

Let me kiss your troubles
fondle your pride
then we’ll play life as doubles.

I’ll give you a carton of milk
so that you can wash your silk
on the soft mattress you love.

At you I will poke fun not
instead I will jab you hard
with thrusts of trust
and knocks of lust
will forever be echoing in your mind.

Oh come on, throw away that eraser
for it is already worn out, burnt
by our unfinished, rough edges
of our naughty little sketches
of La Petite Mort.

-Odis

I think this is the lewdest poem I’ve ever written as of yet