Sincerely, Flower

By Aby Yba

He loves you,

Observe and admire how my great beauty spreads itself open before your eager eyes. Smell my scent as every second, I lose it.

He loves you not.

Sincerely,

Flower

Yes, the one that you pick up and smell, and cut, and tie, and display, for all to see, Or give away, or sell  for others to drown,  for others and for all to see. Do it fast, but not too fast.

Do it, before I wither.

She loves you,

For your  worries,  pluck me(pluck me harder), please don't stop. Choke me and watch as I give you that look. Slap me. Pluck me. To the point where I can no longer look at you - my eyes roll back.

She loves you not.

Truly yours,

The little bud

Yes the once and only once  a lolita,  drugged to be opened. Opened to be gagged.  Trained to be restrained with your ropes, with your silver and golden chains. And then what?

He loves you,

I am a flower: aster, rose, sage, I am your flower

She loves you not.

Very Truly Yours,

Your Artwork

Master, I surrender myself to you, cut me, tie me, choke me and slap me. Pluck harder. Tie me up and give me away. Cut me. Admire my restrained beauty. Slap me. Anything and everything for your worries. Conquer me then caress me.

I am your bonsai, watch as steel and leather block out the blood from my skin, stare as my growth is stifled then forced. Write a poem of pain and pleasure on my skin, read it on my face.  Is this good enough for your liking? Is this the position that you want? Sensei, do your ikebana-on me.

He/she loves you not,

pluck me.

he loves you, she loves you,

pluck me. Don't stop.

slap me.

You missed one of my petals. Please pluck harder.

Conquer me then caress me-

Spray me, force me to blossom, and when I do, splatter my face white to color me-to hide my withering. Pump me - with perfume- as every second I lose my scent. Pluck me harder. Hug me later. Master.

Yes you can parade me. Yes, take pictures, take pictures of yourself with me. Don't forget to smell and touch, but you can only pluck...later. After the parade. After Panagbenga,  After you display me for all to see.

Before and during, admire my great great blossom.

But (pluck me, please)

after

When i wither, if i wither.

I will wither,

He loves you not.

Will you still tie me up when the neck is nothing but bone? Will you still choke me?

Still smell me when all the spraying and the coloring do no good? Will you still take pictures of me? Take pictures of yourself with me? Will you still slap a skin that is sagging? Please?

Will you still look?

She loves you not,

I will wither, I am withering, I am wrinkled, there is nothing more to pluck. What is there to ravage when I am already ravaged?

He loves you, he loves you not.

She loves you, she loves you not.

There are countless other younger flowers, waiting for you to drug them, open, cut, tie, gag, spray.

They love you not.

There are no festivals for the withering. No tourists for that.

My breasts will sag, they are sagging. If they do, Will you still grab them? My legs are sagging. My arms are sagging. And while you can pump me with all the plastic and silicon, after spraying me with all your beauty products, pesticides and fertilizers,

Remember that

I am and will always remain, degradable,

Just like you

Bio degradable,

Sincerely,

Nabubulok(just like you)

P.S.

Throw your trash properly, do not place me with the plastic bags or napkins, or diapers. Return me to Mother. If you haven't ravaged her.