Rich White Woman™

Think silk 
wafts of jasmine, moments of vetiver 
emerald warring with chartreuse,
blood seducing onyx into the crevices
Think pain
Think pleasure. 

Limbs stretched out, 
fingers falling like dew 
Satin riding waves of 
Ripe body ridges

Silver on skin, skin on satin, satin on cotton, cotton on wood, wood on floor 

On days when the pain pins me to my bed,
I reach for gold (necklaces, rings, bangles) 
I light a match 
The world waits for me. 

My eyes are closed and my home is Victorian 
Pills are popped
Bong is packed 
Pillows laid out like placemats 
I marinate in my own blood 
Ready for bed to become a warzone

You know the image 
A Rich White Woman™ with nothing but her own pain, 
because someone else takes care of the rest