Capturing the moment is impossible,
so she saviors it as much as she can.
It tastes tarty, and whimsical.
Like a walking daydream.
Aspirations arent sleeping,
but instead on a quest. Just like the
juices sliding down her chin,
dripping in between her breast.
Swollen. With second guesses
at what bread crumbs to follow.
Fuck it she will go wherever it leads.
And have a full stomach, with passion
absorbing in from head to toe.