don't look at me
like I'm cotton candy,
sold by
wandering vendors
on beaches sandy,
the aroma of hot chai,
the sizzle
of frying fritters,
the sun against
your mahogany skin,
the ignorant oaf
who litters,
I am none of these,
but what I can be,
is the intoxication
that consumes you
after several sips
of brandy.
YOU ARE READING
The Adventures We Never Had
PoetryLadies, gentleman and others, I coyly present to you my collection of poignant poems that sometimes fail to be even that. These poems will be unlike any other poems you've had the pleasure of reading, but then again, that can be said of every other...
