A whistle,
blows off the steam
heated inside the kettle.
Warmth is luscious and comforting.
The sensation that will soon puncture between your lips.
It comes to a boil,
the whistle grows greater.
Higher.
Oh that one night.
The note reaches soprano,
and continues.
Water rises to a boil.
Anger.
Only a sound that can make your ears throb.
Grasping the handle,
you pull the *** from it's key source.
Oh how you yearn to do the same.
Something this bitter,
needs a sweetener.
The warmth will exit.
Won't it need someplace to go?
Honey,
your warmth is forever welcome,
if you find yourself becoming cold on the boil.
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC
A whistle,
blows off the steam
heated inside the kettle.
Warmth is luscious and comforting.
The sensation that will soon puncture between your lips.
It comes to a boil,
the whistle grows greater.
Higher.
Oh that one night.
The note reaches soprano,
and continues.
Water rises to a boil.
Anger.
Only a sound that can make your ears throb.
Grasping the handle,
you pull the *** from it's key source.
Oh how you yearn to do the same.
Something this bitter,
needs a sweetener.
The warmth will exit.
Won't it need someplace to go?
Honey,
your warmth is forever welcome,
if you find yourself becoming cold on the boil.
