Shall I, once more
transform you
into Eros
drape you with
golden sheets of lilies
post-harvest.
shall I muscle you
with strawberry meat
each of your limbs
I ferociously taste sweetness.
shall I pluck
a pair of lychee
and plant it as your lips
I will be
enormously addicted to its fructose
never mind those ants
that will haunt me.
shall I sew
your body
with blankets of Mahogany
delicately remain
stronghold
furrow-free
so not a root
will seep through your edges,
and I can hug you
pain-free.
shall I intricately line
your face
two eyes
with pomelo sap
its blatant taste
I shall consider
Mother Nature's balancing effect.
I flutter back
from your red cherry nose
underneath my blanket
and try to repeat
this enticingly delicious savory encounter.
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