my man.
the way he says “yumm” makes you wish that you were that half eaten bag of haribo gummi bears.
he makes an onomatopoeia sound like a noun of forbidden paradise.
that which is forbidden strikes an urge somewhere in my body.
he has a way of saying it that sounds church boy-like and sexual-like at the same time.
his lips locking at the very sound of the consonant “m”.
i tell ya, i wanna be his spoon when he eats his ice cream and his fingers when he licks the residue of potato chips.
i wanna be the songs that he sings and the black coffee that he drinks.
i wanna make him say “yumm”.


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