The Black Dahlia Lies


if you look hard enough

deep sultry red like the

finest American wine

seeps out from the sides

of my mesmerizing middle

like a heart exploding

my plush pointed petals


Remember me

made from the dripping

sweat and bred to be beautifully black

my roots spread like a foreign cobweb,

as i sit forcefully planted on the side of the highway

staring at the bisected stem-like torso

now forgotten and mutilated

and we are both unnaturally created by man

my DNA is crafted by

the urge to resurrect the

Arabian Night and manufacture

a darker hue

her beauty is sliced by a serial killer’s wish

to dominate her name

through her,

my graphic gratuitousness

grates on

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