dessert that I'd prepared

and well, I thought, with care

was not so well received by him

that night of our twelve hour date. . .

main course also not quite to his taste

and didn't matter! dessert he made for me

that night, that magic night

so very soft and hard and salt and sweet

so silk-smooth, so surprising, and yet. . . familiar too

that sweet was well received indeed

pleasures of our flesh

straightforward ease of it

the gentleness, the sudden strength

calm revelation of his nakedness

inside my eager unskilled mouth

his lovely clever hands so swift

beneath my black boned bra

around my yearning hips

down deep between my thighs, within

then, somehow, both flown way up high

so very high, pulled up sudden

yanking hard enough on my long hair

to make me (very slightly) scream

all that loving, all that calm surprise

all of dreamshape that —

every moment pleasure, joy, reprieve

just have not felt this way

just have not known such things

for very (darkly sadly) long

turns out that I still like dessert