Tags
infernal, it's all erotic poetry in the end, lick that knife clean, more than just spilled ink, poem, saccharin, sonnet
Go to the sink. Eating a pink melon
always makes a mess. All that’s ripe and sweet.
All that drips juicy. You’re such a glutton
for sweet goop. Slide the knife into this meat.
Pop a chunk in your mouth. Taste me melting.
I come toothsome, complex. Like saccharin,
after the first lick you know that something
infernal rests on your tongue. Honeyed sin
in the syrup. I make knife blades messy
when you want more than sweet broth to dribble
down your chin. I’ll leave you somewhere between
sugar high and glucose blackout. Gooey
blade stuck in the Devil’s sweetmeat middle.
Here’s one more excuse to lick that knife clean.