Maybe what turned me on was the air refreshner that hung in his car
Hoping his mom would not smell the traces
Of obvious dunhill Reds and jack Daniels.
Or The way he performed darkness on my skin
As thick as black ink That no jar could keep.
How about the hunger in his mouth,
That burning curiosity to push the edge of decency
And go for gold.
Or Perhaps it' was the gospel truth that what we were doing that night
Could be followed by disastrous consequences
And what was completely forbidden by our different religion
After all
he is Malay .

He had eyes concealed by  lashes that
Were like curtains
Hoping to hide his intentions .
His life is what you would call
A cerekarama.
Forbidden love between two rebels
Trying to break through the norms of societies standards.
Always drunk on the idea of love,
'Syaitan lives in my pants '
He would say to make an excuse for touching me and grinning
Hoping I'd be a sucker.

Oh and did I mention he was Malay?