Thirst Trap
His cinnamon-tanned chests are bagels to taste.
He knows to pop little cherries and put gals into place.
His shredded-flexed arms are as mighty as the Ancient Greek God.
The winsome wimps wistfully hope; they are awed.
His lips are quite scheming; they call for a feast.
As they start to act not humanlike, they turn into beasts.
Only your eyes can describe how good-chiseled he is.
A single drool from your mouth can never give you bliss.
“Oh, you can look but you can’t touch!”
But you’re just one of those hundreds under Charlie’s clutch.
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