Desire is just the cream topping
life is a 5-course meal
and I want my pudding.
Baby, crackling heat is just the starter.
And hopefully, we'll finish this meal together.
And crack a few lobster claws and eats caviar
then lie back on upholstered black, leather
and follow these horizontal stars off the radar.
Oh, forever, oh, I'm so hungry,
I've-finished with my noodle Thai soup.
Now I'm ready for something more gamely,
with a good Bollinger red, then we'll regroup.
And have our dessert, baby
something hot and slightly sticky,
that will suit me just fine.
Something sweet on the brink of sexy,
by candlelight that gravitates
towards a weightless high on cloud nine.
Lust is just the cream topping
life is a 5-course meal
and I want my pudding.
Baby, crackling heat is just the starter.
I want to 'sear the night away.'
A medium-rare steak with a lick of French mustard
and a condiment of dressings we leave-in disarray
with a life of hunger deferred, deferred, deferred.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem