2014 -- 7.1 (Fall) Poetry


By: Priyam Patel

I watched from afar.
Silky blonde,
dangerously curvy,
oh, Lord.

I saw her yesterday.
Tight blouse,
button undone,
oh, Lord.

Her veins draped her soft skin.
Royalty, she was.

Her skin looked so soft.
Gosh, how easily it could be sliced open.

I wanted to lay in a field of roses.
Nothing but roses,
and the sweet smell of honeydrew
and satin.

Tell me, does it taste as good as it looks?

Oh lord.