Like cinnamon, hot and exotic,
so sweet, like earth, warm, deep
and dark – I could make you my home
like a meerkat burrows underground.
The scent of skin on skin,
and sure of yourself like a jaguar
hunting its pray in the dead
of night. Comforting as hot chocolate
covered in cream; Solitary,
a long lost diary kept in an attic
somewhere. Cocky, face towards the stars,
yet grounded, feet firmly placed on concrete
while mine float freely above. The string
of my balloon. The anchor which keeps my head
level. Proud like a stag; A tower; and the ink
of a typewriter which spreads your story
across a blank page.


Featured online in Female First magazine.

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