The life form in my chest.
Pounding with more and more stress.
There's nothing comparable
To my little cynical.

My face is always beet red
Whenever I get in bed.
Especially when he looks at me
And then give a pat, softly.

His hands, body, skin,
Turns me on with a grin.
And now he just kissed my forehead.
I think I'm melting to my death.