Lips

Crimson,
just like what I saw in my vision.

Tender,
just like how I play my fender.

Soft,
just like that of a cashmere cloth.

All I want is for you to plant yours on mine,
to make me feel all so fine.

When I close my eyes,
I hope that we'll be both in paradise.

I know guys can't have them,
cos' they are wonderfully mine maam,
but when I think of them,
I get choked with phlegm.

As they make my heart do flips,
I begin to melt and drip,
just like after one has been whipped.

Well please be mindful of all the flattery,
cos' they ain't for you,
my boo.

Well you might be thinking that your lips are all so fine,
but my dear they are nothing compared to mine.



Copyright © 2005.
Written by Emmanuel Joseph Victor (2005).
All Rights Reserved.