To a lover.
Making a move in the supermarket aisle,
I brought you home. Took the risk
and noone saw us anyway so we're okay.
This email comes from me at work-
I wish I was still there with you,
with your sweet taste, I cannot wait.
I cannot wait.
I've thought of nothing for three days
but your tight suit- I cup and squeeze an empty hand
in the absence of you here. Are you still there,
where I last felt you- perching on the kitchen side
-I'm home tomorrow and will eat.
Will liberate you from that glistening green
get up you wear with my bare hands.
Fingers peeling at the smoothened creases of your skin
will delve down deep in giving flesh to pluck and feel
your seed, swollen within your sticky midst
you're ripe for me my dear, I know.
My avacado, I can't wait.
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