long dark hair
tan soft skin
dripped in sin
i hate boys
I want a beautiful ring from you.
With rare stones and diamond encrusted too.
Are flowers too much to ask?
Or maybe just chocolates, 'cos I might be moving too fast.
Hot chocolate no longer tastes like chocolate
Tea gets me as drunk as wine
I get about as high on cannabis as I would rosemerry or thyme
The clocks in my house have stopped ticking
Though I never stop to check
There's a litter of stray kittens, outside my door, on the front step
Although time has stopped passing
And the gods have fallen asleep
I still find myself laughing
That I've wept to much to weep
Ive had a few people wonder.
This dark piece is not completely sweet
Melting on the tongue, I feel its make-believe.
How can it be bitter when I let it rest
And be like nectar when I cannot possess?
first time i felt love outside family tasted like dark chocolate melting in my mouth
Monday nights on earth
A choice of two remedies
Warm me up at home or in the new place in westlake?
Which way, to which way goes the winds?
Windy libra evenings blow all around me.
After all, what did I expect when venus stays above this part of town.
There is refuge from this cold
in the cafe on Lennox.
It was here that I met deep purple eyes.
The ones filled with magic, luxury, and the smoothest contact.
They cried the kind of warm purple tears that are hard to describe.
You taste like velvet feels.
You taste like twinkle sounds.
Have you ever had lavender hot chocolate on a cold Monday night?
Interesting because neither have I.
Late nippy autumn
A dark, crunchy chocolate wind
Long awaited sip
© LadyRavenhill 2018
Your sweet quiet voice makes my face create new hues .
Almost everything you speak is tasteful.
The ideas of you turn my salty tears into sweet honey, but
honey wouldn't be the right thing to describe my feelings, would it?
Because honey doesn't rot.
It doesn't become bitter.
You are honey.
Sweet and kind and everything I'm not.
I am dark chocolate.
Bitter and jealous and sad.
We go together in theory, but more people enjoy sweet than bitter.
You know you can do better than bitter.
They say dark chocolate makes you happy which is funny because
I'm not happy.
A piece of the pie
Is what all seek to obtain,
Instead of the bar.
Bar for average,
But if in dark chocolate, is
Tastier than Pi.
Seriously, though, Happy Pi Day to all—I’ll be celebrating with friends...and...plenty of pie.
Of all the addictions...
Chocolate is how
**** should be.
When I look into your eyes
I see more than just brown...
I see pools of dark chocolate
in which I want to drown.
Like shots of aged whiskey
they intoxicate me-
I forget all my troubles
and for a moment, I'm free.
They make me feel warm,
so safe and secure.
No longer a sinner-
they make me feel pure.
They're the color of sugar
with a devilish charm
that has me mesmerised.
Much like the earth
drenched in rain-
with unstoppable force
they now flood my brain.
To be lost in their depths
is where I long to be...
but those perfect brown eyes
were never meant to see me.
I love his eyes
I love you to pieces.
All of you being my favorite.
After a long day, I look forward to seeing you.
Being around you.
I constantly loose myself in your eyes.
Every moment with you a blessing.
Whether it's early in the morning
Or late at night.
I love every moment.
My chocolate peanut butter craving starts and ends with you.
I can't help but smile.
Thankful that your not wrapped in tin foil.
A moment of trust easily accessible.
By far the greatest gift I could ever receive.
I accept all of you.
Delectable pieces poured into my hands.
Sensually sharing hidden parts of ourselves.
Every inch uncovered beneath coated chocolate.
Creamy peanut butter.
Soon melted away by tastes desire.
It's practical to see why I have to call in sick.
Spending all my time with you.
Your taste still on my lips.
Stomach still aching.
My chocolate peanut butter craving.
Thank you for being you
The first thing he saw early this morning
When he pulled back the light green curtains
Was a hectic blue 'n orange butterfly
Wavering in the fair sun of his garden -
'tween the enclosed well and the laurel tree.
On a sidewalk, red and radiant,
Strutted two maidens together,
A turquoise skirt wore the one,
A chocolate T-shirt the other.
Jubilant they were together,
As the cadence of their laughter
Waved in the air like Tunisian silk.
No harvest did his screen display today,
No mountain range did loom far in the distance;
All that was shown were a laughing sidewalk,
And a quivering sun in a small garden.