Beads of sweat on bottled wine. Taste divine; this goddess form Twirled in satin and leaf gold Curved to hold a broken norm
Her Name is Champagne
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Tag Archives: lesbian
Plea to the Winemaker’s Daughter
To express my love concisely would be speaking imprecisely. A pleasing design my full bodied wine. So, divine? Entice me! Should you try resisting advance and take no other amorous chance, I'll fall to my knees and scream to the breeze all my pleas for your glance
The Girl That Could Dance
Outstretched legs that could reach the sky, And nails long enough to lose an eye. Curves small and soft, but defined and outlined, Face tight, flawless, and often kind. Pointed toes that swept deftly, precise, And affection that came at a price, Back tickled with golden hair, A body most beautiful bare. Elegant movements, jeté, plié, Childish as very cliché. Parents who raised their child right, With the grace of a mythic sprite. Shame everyone else had loved her too.
The Sequel Child
Images move animatedly across the tv screen, Sounds are blended into the background noise, The foreground filled with heavy breathing, The satiation of pleasure between two, Summed up by title of ‘Netflix and chill.’ The sequel, a follow up on two series merging, Finally born, gendered by the pink onsie, The gentle curves of tassels and bows, And the growing basket of perfectly painted, Single expression, pose-able dolls. Years of playing courting, marriage, Nuclear house, one ken, one barbie, and baby, Of traditionalism imposed in playtime, destroyed. The babe who once played with dolls, Becomes the doll in the tent playing with her bae. Within a flash, the two are married, Both taking and barrelling their surnames, Living equal in their roles, life, and love, Until the hourglass is empty, And the grieving hold their umbrellas in the rain.
The Poet Armistead 