Peach salsa Has that tangy taste Between sweet and spicy Burning tongues naughtily but nicely.
Peach salsa Is the quiet librarian of dips Unassuming until the bun comes undone And blink of an eye she’s a firecracker in bed.
Peach salsa Tastes a lot like you And our Sunday afternoons Experiments with papaya and pineapples Tossed in with tomatoes and crying onions The perfect recipe for a little change and a lot of disaster.
You were hovering over me, Violently yearning You whispered: “gummy bears can’t dance salsa” Under us the ground broke. And the choreography was immaculate, As we fell on one another Weaving our morals on the last door we passed, Before we made that right and went downstairs. The puddle fell under me— icing my back, The fall silenced you’re moans, while the silence started the quiver, A treble in full effect. You’re song was in windings as the prophetic tongue wandered. Then they came to boast the steps, But one after another their dance lay deaf For gummy bears can’t dance salsa When you’ve chewed off their legs.
Were the words that ignited her flare, seducing every man in the room with her dessert-like tone skin, cherry colored dress, and her *Latin moves awing every soul. She embodied seduction, she embodied Salsa music.