AFTERTASTE
I think. I move… simply to figure out the purpose.
I snooze. I dream… barely to disremember most what have seen
and drawn perfect in the mind. Where I talk; and where I eat… perhaps only to dash
unto it`s end rushing the path that we must live with ease.
To pound drabness back into vibrancies—I must take a
breather.
Arose all smiles—our eyes, they have met at long last; then
along surfaced the hands that cannot be riven off each other`s touches. Merely
with a sniff of your glare—the wind blows of a scent that snatches and filchers
back my innocence.
I guess it`s your taste… for cooking... Cooking sumptuous
loving—with all the soft and tender marinating—soaked with sickly-sweet
saccharine kisses.
Let the aftertastes halt in my lips forever.
Stacked under 2am sunlight for 24 mins... and these are the product..