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White...
Pure;
Clean,
Clear.
But not my intention,
Not my mind.
It's green, love.
Every time I looked at you
with that white plain top.
Gray...
Colorless;
Boring,
Nondescript.
But not in my eyes, love..
It's so appealing.
When I saw you,
on that grayscale photograph.
Tight...
Hard;
Stiff,
Tense.
So manly,
I saw it.
The bulge,
between your thighs.
It's teasing me, my love...
YOU ARE READING
Munting Tinig (Mga Tula At Alingawngaw)
PoetrySalita Agam-agam Konsensya Damdamin Katha ...sa pluma ko't tinta.
