yum yum II

I shouldn't make spirals and circles in the wooden sand, parachutes of wild orchids, cinnamon sparks, florid ferns and red berried wine, syrupy goblets and taciturn lanterns waking at the bay, poetic sky-blinding, sky-flying, sky-walking scribbles and pirouettes about caramel hip kissing, tracing your navel and all the things you like. Arms up, lip-bitten, pressed warm and wet, thick and hard, soft succulent humming, how you bend and move like lavender liquid narcotics, toes curled and the pallid light falling through the blinds. You look like a bronze angel laying there as the shards of newborn daylight lacquer your lilac landscape of perfumed prose and painted stalks of honey thistle, a faint brush and bristles, pink panties in the floor, the covers a battleground, blankets at your side, the flowerbeds in heaven, the pitcher plant on the windowsill, the dreary rain-drizzle and sad embers of the volcanic lake, the molten lava and rigid rocks, the stripes of contrast, just what you like, meshing Guyanese chocolate and opaque eggshell white, my green iris ablaze, those magnificent doll eyes, waterfall lash, small stature, sugary sky outside, inside breathing and humming, always humming, yummy yum yum humming like a melting sugar cube on my tongue.