I pull my hair up,
You tie an apron around my waist,
Fingers lingering.
We're laughing while you try to break an egg,
White shells speckle the mixture.
I feel your gaze,
Your cinnamon eyes draw me in.
And now....
Orange peels are scattered against the counter,
Batter drips off a spoon and pools to the floor next to us,
Melted chocolate clings to my hair,
But nothing matters except the passion fruit on your breath,
And the flavor combination with mine
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 11:25 PM UTC
I pull my hair up,
You tie an apron around my waist,
Fingers lingering.
We're laughing while you try to break an egg,
White shells speckle the mixture.
I feel your gaze,
Your cinnamon eyes draw me in.
And now....
Orange peels are scattered against the counter,
Batter drips off a spoon and pools to the floor next to us,
Melted chocolate clings to my hair,
But nothing matters except the passion fruit on your breath,
And the flavor combination with mine
Request permission to use this poem