Maybe what turned me on was the air refreshner that hung in his car Hoping his mom would not smell the traces Of obvious dunhill Reds and jack Daniels. Or The way he performed darkness on my skin As thick as black ink That no jar could keep. How about the hunger in his mouth, That burning curiosity to push the edge of decency And go for gold. Or Perhaps it' was the gospel truth that what we were doing that night Could be followed by disastrous consequences And what was completely forbidden by our different religion After all he is Malay .
He had eyes concealed byΒ Β lashes that Were like curtains Hoping to hide his intentions . His life is what you would call A cerekarama. Forbidden love between two rebels Trying to break through the norms of societies standards. Always drunk on the idea of love, 'Syaitan lives in my pants ' He would say to make an excuse for touching me and grinning Hoping I'd be a sucker.