Pantyless, I lay on cool pink cotton sheets, scrolling through a weekend’s worth of messages on my mobile. Your pussy looks like a flower, my boyfriend said suddenly. A flower? What the hell kind of flower is that? He shrugged his shoulders in that, how do you expect me to know gesture he often uses. Leaping off the bed, he grabbed a pen, a piece of paper and began sketching. Open your legs a little wider, hon, I need a better view. I looked at him with an arched eyebrow, but did what he requested. Lying there, I look up at the ceiling thinking of flowers and bees and if the drawing of my pussy would look like a Van Gogh or a Matisse. In about two minutes, my sweetie placed the pen and paper on the nightstand and smiled his one dimpled smile at me. I asked to see the drawing, he didn’t answer as he climbed on top of me and watered my flower.
Toni G. had dreams of becoming a rap artist (Hence the name Toni G.) but due to life struggles (such as being an old fart and not having enough money to buy gold chains or gold caps for her teeth) she decided to forgo that career and become a poet. As you can tell by her piece being published in WFP, she hasn’t made it as a poet either.