Closed

My breasts are warm only to my touch
the rest can keep away
I want nothing from each of them
as I aim to be excused.
The garden in my heart is closed for repairs
during the busiest time of the year
and still I walk along, admiring the colors
drunk from the scents
amused at visitors trying to climb the fence
eager to litter my garden.
I want nothing from them.

If love means allowing someone to come inside
are they willing to walk with me
instead of standing in my way or asking me to
stick around when I'm eager to get up and
shake everything around like dice,
instead of making me feel like shit
because i'm the way i am and feel too old to change it,
if love is one big compromise, perhaps i'm just not ready for it.
Maybe I just want to sit back and admire my goddamn flowers
or touch my aching breasts and feel grateful that
i know how to please myself
perhaps this is best right now