I get the impression
that you like me the way you like dessert:
praising my appearance, presentation,
eyeing a swirl of cream,
licking your lips at the sparkle of glacé
Anticipation.
When you cradle me gently
in the curve of your silver spoon:
your tongue samples my sweet delight,
fleeting flavors hold your senses enraptured
the lingering aftertaste beckons
More.
Your silver spoon scrapes
the bottom of the glass bowl:
melted cream pools languidly,
my last sweet aftertaste slips from your tongue
while you do the dishes.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 8:25 PM UTC
I get the impression
that you like me the way you like dessert:
praising my appearance, presentation,
eyeing a swirl of cream,
licking your lips at the sparkle of glacé
Anticipation.
When you cradle me gently
in the curve of your silver spoon:
your tongue samples my sweet delight,
fleeting flavors hold your senses enraptured
the lingering aftertaste beckons
More.
Your silver spoon scrapes
the bottom of the glass bowl:
melted cream pools languidly,
my last sweet aftertaste slips from your tongue
while you do the dishes.
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