Let’s leave it on the wing.
From one classy punk to another,
your deliciousness is showing.
And the trees, their foliage and blooms,
all carry your name upon their lathered tongues.
Something there is is to be savored,
not just minutely,
but with every inch of every nerve.
My pores are steaming, my love,
at your stupefying touch.
How is it that you know
at all times and places exactly
what it takes to make me quiver
like a sun upon a plate?
What is it you see when you gaze
into my coffee-stained eyes?
And is it anything as gorgeous and warm
as what I see when I gaze into yours?
-r. miller
So Real
Published
*Insert Propaganda Here* 