It tasted like strawberry.
A little bit cherry.
A little bit wine.
What was it?
Was it real?
Was it fine?
I counted to nine,
and ten made me sure.
The pace, the tense
Your seductive sense
The bites, the touching
My neck was glimmering
Giggles and teeth,
my very raw kisses.
Hair and skin,
those imprints on the apples.
The heat on your palms
The cold on my fingertips
The hearts were beating up
Like drums in the middle of November
We were razzle in silence
We were lost in reality
My dear,
it started like spring.
And ended up like autumn.
We drank the liquor
and look what we became.
It was young
and tasteful.
I bet you crave for another afterward.
YOU ARE READING
The Art of Us
Random❝ This is how i make the bitter look exhilarating. ❞ ❨#2 in Poetic Justice, March 2019❩ (#3 in The Cold, May 2020) (#1 in The Cold, June 2020)
