tongue swirling, wrapped around a red cherry stem, she dances sultrily; like honey.
golden honey dripping from a comb, luxé and smooth. yet those candy lips seem to be saying something else.
debauchery with a subtle hint of peculiarity, she makes it seem like it's on purpose.
and there are two things that should never go together which are both cherries and honey.
yet he smiles and yearns for her tempting touch.
she replies monotonously, and yet the words that come out seem ethereal, "my dear, you should know that i have never been as sweet as honey. this monster has already taken over and i am more like hard liquor than anything else."
he tries again, "je t'aime," and in english once more, "i love you so much."
candy floss lips repeat for the seventh time, "bonne nuit, mon cher."
the honey is long past expired.
