Nestling in the womb
of my need
the seed
of your imagination
our baby
that grew
ever proud mother.
I carried her
nurtured her
with the crimson
of my longing
pregnant with your words
secure in my reverie
the bud within blossoming
finally erupting
in my consciousness
a stillborn
doomed and mauled
the love-child
of your mind
desecrating the cocoon
a figment
like a thorn.