Dessert

Your body is my dessert.
Your skin is chocolate pudding.
And I dip my finger
in a bowl of whipped cream
and paint a picture over you.

I paint your chest with tiny suns,
spread flowers over your abs,
let trees grow high
along your thighs,
and write a love letter
over your groin.

I paint your body
with symbols of my love,
then lick you clean
and spell your name
with my tongue.