Swilling together (beautifully)

We melt into each other nightly,

vanilla and strawberry, slurrying together with abandon.

This is how I think of us,

within my private recollections.

I have no problem telling you,

far from it.

That mischievous grin and dirty laugh

know more than they let on.

You’re a sauce pot;

making my heart stop;

getting it on until it all rots.

We’re a new ice cream flavour, hun.

Best on the market:

The pesto and pistachio one

that we got from

Clapham.