It may **** me to be inside any hands not grown from your golden body,
But I choose tigers
I give them a glossy mirror while playing a flute
Or harp strings
They finally rest
Hell,
They purr

Though it does make your eyes roll backward, and your stomach reject an entire day
If only you could see how I crush them
You’d be so proud of this flower
Given in bunches to poison kings
Coming to bloom on your kitchen table
Making your house into a home