drowsiness/testosterone

sweet little dahlia,
you sit sweetly in a vial,
your odour is so vile
like an adulterated ophelia.

you tread quietly,
with determination so grand;
why dress so bland,
when you think so mildly?

having no shame,
fingertips on wine,
fill the room with whine
as you spread the blame.

but beneath the skin
you weep weakly,
i see your eyes – so meekly –
but your strings are so thin.

i’ll calm your nerves
to mend turmoil that rests,
but so shall i tongue your breasts
for i am none but one who serves.

forgive me for being crass
but i must be true,
as i am filled with rue,
and you, a lass.