His tongue is menthol, sending a cooling sensation down my spine
Smoke was never sexy, until I saw it pass your lips
Unsweetened coffee used to disgust me until I saw the hue of your skin, now every morning I use you as my pick me up.
I ash with every climax my orgasmic bliss communicated in smoke signals. You've become my bad habit.
I hope you think of me each time you kiss the butt of those sticks.
Coffee fills me every time we have a secret rendezvous. The only time you'll voluntarily use cream. And I, I become your sweetener.
YOU ARE READING
BRoken WOrd
Random✒️I'm a Poet✒️ I've learned that the best poems are based on life events No matter how magnanimous Or Microscopic
