Since the fleeting moment my lips touched you,
I have not felt the same.
The warmth of your soft, pink flesh
upon my quivering tongue,
left a taste beyond compare;
Your flavour buckling my knees.
Days have become night since we intertwined;
Time but an elastic band pulling me
back and forth
whenever it chooses.
My nerves are fraught.
I’m half the man I used to be
with twice the amount of sweat.
I sit here,
upon my lonely throne,
a flock of butterflies performing somersaults within me,
my arse their only exit.
Oh sausage roll,
I shall never forgive you.
© Carl Burkitt 2014