Humor · poetry

Postres

image

Some things look luscious
from a distance.
They look like
an exquisite Raphael painting,
with sensuous lips
you want to run the tips
of your fingers over,
before your own lips
replace them.
Eyes that are at once
wizened with harsh experience,
yet has a depth
of azure innocence.
Their skin
a work of art itself,
a series of cave paintings
mysterious to outsiders.
Those tattoos
so glowing
from the skin underneath,
your tongue wants
to outline each one
to see if they respond.

This delicious thing
has thoughts
as deep as reefs,
memories and ideas
darting
like shimmery silver
and gilt fish
behind their eyes.
Thoughts transmutable
from dream to song
made living by hands
as deft to instrument
as to breasts,
lyrical and magical,
Thoughts to inspire
The heart to joy
Or the loins to rebel.

Such delights
are often
only glimpsed from afar,
appreciated,
but not loved
to the full measure
they demand
and deserve,
or are worthy of.
We often pine
for just a taste,
a look, a like,
a word,
to the point one
becomes a slave
to their indifference.
Some delicacies
are too rich
for the palate
and are thus safer
behind the windows
of the PastelerĂ­a.
But Life deserves
living Oceans,
deserve to swim.
Postres
deserve tasting,
though forbidden,
at all times.

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