The secret taste, my own hand is completing, ice cream.
A private joy, the moaning, the fleeting, ice cream.
My unplayed sonnet craves for a maestro's crescendo.
A freezer’s siren song, I’m powerless, beckoning, ice cream
My desires, untamed garden, unexplored, ignored,
A frozen bliss, in pleasure's heat, I'm needing, ice cream.
Remorseful echoes haunt my yearnings, an abandoned hall,
Useless empty calories to be worked off, sinning, ice cream.
A painter’s brush, my hands splatter ecstasy, uncontained,
Flavor's colors, in pleasure's heat, dripping, ice cream.
Wisp of my scent, a memory of vanilla and sea salt,
Sugar cone explodes, no napkin, fingers sticking, ice cream
Imagined lover, I cup myself, between fingers, a slow pull,
Creamy soft serve cup, caramel drizzled, spooning, ice cream
Flavors of passion, spices of desire, I’m taste-testing,
Wandering endless isles, reading labels, discovering ice cream.
In pre-dawn mist, my sighs rise soft to kiss the sky,
Candy sprinkles scattered on hot fudge; uplifting ice cream.
Beneath the stars, my haven whispers, Gaia’s soothing grace,
In every touch, I find my truth, my love embracing, ice cream.
