Her ta-tas
have gravitas
and levity
the angels sing
in praise of them
celestially, with
perfect objectivity
but down here with my
male glance fleeing everywhere,
especially, to eyes up here
so well aware
which catch, and throwing back
a knowing look or two,
right through me, and
the judgment they pronounce
could send a message
to eternity, or
drop me from the heavenest height
to bounce, a touch
too flirtily. Or say
"Let's bounce,"
Get out of here!
I'm killing me
No comments:
Post a Comment