Wounds were never
             afflicted with
repercussion of syllable lesions..

No quite the opposite,
       Unfamiliar tastes on the
       tongue, cleansed improper tastes.

Stir me gently in your ***,
Be careful not to get me too hot.
Thick and creamy,
Oh so dreamy.
You can't deny,
You know you need me.
Juicy, red, strawberries to dip,
Or taste me from your finger tip,
Eat me quick before I drip,
And lick me off your guilty lips.
Pleasure, love, and satisfaction,
I expect no other reaction.

╰⊰✿´ℒ♡ⓥℯ '✿⊱╮
Deliciously sweet street treat
From dough unsweetened
Usually long, thin or thick
Deep fried, golden-brown
Sprinkled with sugar
mixed with cinnamon
Chocolate dip
Aaah!
╰⊰✿⊱╮

Following the words of tongue
         that flow like rivers,
coming from different streams.
             Each can venture on different
meanings, like the flow carrying petals
          of indifference upon
                   the riptide of contemplation.

Even though everyone shall drink from
             the knowledge flowing, each taste
            may divide from another and even
though the source maybe the same.
         Every sunrise is minutely different from
                                                          yesterday.
Gleaming on the flow of words, the reflection
                   upon each maybe not the taste of others.


Let us not differ on the source, but let us drink
                quietly upon the reflection that with
every drink brings ripples of reflection upon
all that drink from the knowledge that is swallowed.
There is one source and we are all part of its meaning.