Beat Poetry

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Some give you flowers Baby,
but their sweet perfume soon departs for heaven
leaving petals strewn like candy wrappers at your feet.

Some give you chocolate,
hoping to inflame your tongue with lust,
but their hollow centres are a portent Babe.

Your value is far above dime store seduction.

I give you a beet Lover,
a root with hidden sweetness
dyed with the deep purple of my desire.
I give you a beet,
the garden heart unearthed
as I would pluck mine from my breast for you.
I give you a beet,
a sacrifice of love wrapped in the skin of humility,
a living vessel of secrets
made to nestle in your hand.