There is a pocket of love in the air above an open flower.
It reaches out with invisible fingers and draws us in.
The kiss is so soft, so tender it is experienced only as the heady scent of its breath.
© E Holland
Image © Dascha Friedlová
Flowers eat don’t they?
I have seen their teeth…briefly.
That’s the sign of a carnivore, isn’t it?
I mean do herbivores have sharp teeth?
Flowers don’t eat just anything,
they are like the warriors way back when
who ate the heart of their kill.
We don’t want to think about it but it’s true,
flowers are the hounds of emotion.
They bay at the heart seducing it into submission,
waiting for that exact moment
when they will consume their quarry and the conqueror can come in.
Vanquished we lie open, hungry for the conquest,
offering ourselves to be consumed as petals cover our breasts in ownership.
© Elsa Holland