I got kissed at the age of ten
His tounge tasted like a plum
I remember the feeling back then
My heart played like a drum
I asked "where are the strings
And the sweet, playing flute
And the sound of angel wings
And the pretty lute?"
He joked about breasts
He poked my bidding ones
I made a tired protest
And he answered with puns
Men nu borde jag sluta fåna mig och vara seriös istället.
Det vill säga: leta upp en ordentlig dikt. Till ikväll.
Och rekvisita.
Helvete.
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar