The snow angel snores in my memories, hypnotically.
His snowflake-shaped heart beats in my ears.
The branches bloom softly and gently inside me,
whispering the warm air on his face—he hears.
The redness on his cheeks smears onto my neck.

My mouth tastes his desires, his hands ****** my hair.
I lay face down on my bed to let his tongue water me.
Then he rubs his keys against my locked door—I allow it.
His watered flower blooms inside me, dominated desires.

Slow and gentle moves, painful desires.
Up and down, like a blossoming flower.
Warm and gentle love.
Warm and gentle moves.
Warm and gentle pains.
Warm and gentle—

I smelled perfection from his neck.
He felt the connection from his—
And I take it in, like a black hole.
He is the beacon to connect.

He is the charging recharger,
and I am the dead phone.
He is the golden key,
and I am the locked door.