Teacup
Warm against my palms
My lips to yours
Timid eyelashes flutter
In the clouds of your steam.
Fill me with the warmth
Inside you,
Crisp and acrid
Tart and cleansing
Leaving my palate
Sweet.
And the skin of my cheeks
Rosy with your scent,
Full of honey:
Shimmering with sunlight
And alive with the lust
Of a thousand bees
Who made love to an orchard
In the name of a queen.