TRUST ME

TRUST ME

trust me
you would not want
me to love you
as if you were
a work of
expressionist art

dripping paint all over you
hammering, drilling, lathing,
shaping
you get that modernist
industrial aesthetic right

attacking page or canvas
with slap-dash fury
mesmerized by flood of colour
or raging tide of words

and
that love

is no longer, age declination
assured, no longer
accessible
to me

best I can do
slow Pygmalion mould
define

that no-time to waste Tik-Tok
lap dance six pack push up
bicep and rich
cleavage love

not quite the thing for me