Monday, January 3, 2022

TEA PARTY

I domicile at her neck's curve
As I hold her close and nestle
And gently with her hair, I wrestle.

While she expels silver strands
Of everyday gossip and rumours.
All said in her own sardonic humour.

She warns me not to tell anyone.
While I: a perpetual drunk on cola and rum,
Can only think of biting her bum.

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