DESSERT

 

The caramel of your eyes as rich as the custard I never had.

Your skin my quilt for years. I admit, this is love in another

language. Your irides mine, yet faint as the fantasies, I could

never count on. The spice of your tresses as strong as my subterfuge.

We have no cradlesong. Your breath singes my body, giving birth

to many lies and one truth: no, is your way of saying yes.

 

 

Advertisements

BoySlut Comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s