Plucked Up
A Poem About Falling Victim to Predatory Women
A human bloom torn petal by petal
she loves me, she loves me not.
Every petal falling sheds just a bit more blood.
All the petals gone, not a one to pluck.
The vultures need not circle
they call out the siren's songs
and the blossom floats to them.
Then the fallen flower lays down his faded charms
given up, given up the ghost
pinned to the harpy's breast
mistakes creeping death for comfort
until caught in the razored beak
realizes he only plucked himself.
she loves me, she loves me not.
Every petal falling sheds just a bit more blood.
All the petals gone, not a one to pluck.
The vultures need not circle
they call out the siren's songs
and the blossom floats to them.
Then the fallen flower lays down his faded charms
given up, given up the ghost
pinned to the harpy's breast
mistakes creeping death for comfort
until caught in the razored beak
realizes he only plucked himself.
Published by Kylyssa Shay
Kylyssa Shay spent 18 years as a professional floral designer and has aquacultured marine life for fun and profit. Ms. Shay is a freelance writer, an atheist and an avid life-long learner with unusual life e... View profile
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