Pink
On a morning where the storks flew
A golden-skinned man marked my view
His chest-puffing vessel on the yellow crystals rested
With only the middle extremities protected.
His muscles hard as stones
With six-packed abs – I groaned.
I gulped a pinch of spittle
As I surveyed him little by little.
His nipples pointed the sky; I raised a brow,
While he was bathing on the hot glow,
On the horizon, under his buckle,
The braggart rooster cackled.
The gods must’ve bestowed me their son
I’ll offer my body, let it be done,
But the demigod watered the fire,
Leaving smokes rising higher.
He stretched his hand,
Faced his cellphone camera and grinned,
Gazed at my boyfriend and winked,
Darn, that man wasn’t blue but pink!
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