Tagging her

I’m tagging messages every morning, from my garden, on Facebook, WordPress, my mobile phone, graffiti a puzzle on the walls around me,

My domme morrigan is to die for, my friend g, queen of spiders and mona lisa, all come closer, please, my only milla, my weeping moon, queen of diamonds chasing the obsidian butterfly, my lady of compassion without compare, becoming sexier everyday, Venus, with a honey drawl sending shockwaves when I see her,

Uploading a disorientated picture of her, to give her back what the sight of her gives back to me, a flower, so precious and rare, a mirror thrown together in poetry, posts which change, always, everyday, with her ways,

As if she could influence the passing seasons, as if loving her were loving nature’s disoriented mother, changing always, she changes me, I create my own mischievous puzzle, use my art to point the way, tag an arrow,

To her bed, if she pleases, privately traced, and in a breath, i would like to graffiti our heartshapes there, with tags of enigma, all frigging over the place – instead