You’re not Sip-rose, but you are my glucose,
You give me sucrose coz you are full of fructose,
From your majestic forehead that outshines your hair…
To your bare feet stuck on the floor.
You’re a pack of sweet skittles,
You have two pairs of them littles…
All over your chest and eyes,
Just below your waist to the back as well.
You’re a pack of dessert,
You are a honey comb in the desert,
Dripping honey all over my bed when you sleep,
Spitting little pieces all over my face when you speak.
You’re a natural sack of white charcoal,
You maintain a few dots of nature on your knees,
The back of your arms remains a great link with your genes,
Making you look like a petit royal zebra.
I’d love to kiss you, but I am a slim diabetic,
I’d love to hold your hands in public, but the rangers might
come for you,
I’d love to go out with you, but the rain might wash the
woman you are.
I’d love to love you, as long as you press default settings.
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