Unconditionally
Her eyes met mine like the second and
the minute hand of a clock,
once every minute of every hour of each day.
Her kiss tasted like dark chocolate,
bold and irresistible and ever so perfect,
for I am lactose intolerant.
Her clothes smelt old, sassy and Italian,
like vineyards and Scorsese.
Her farts were like a walk through an orchid,
mildly disturbing and so overrated; it felt like
summer breeze, well, almost like loo.
Her voice was crisp, spicy and so satisfying,
like a pack of Kurkure.
Her touch felt like post- constipation,
eagerly awaited and unbelievably redeeming.
Her moans were like marsupials,
Her walk like penguins.
Her head was as bald as the eagle,
she had about the same keratin.
Her smile was photogenic, curvy and fake;
if it had an ass of its own, Kanye would marry it.
Her heart was fleshy and not cold nor raw,
just like how I like my steak.
Her beauty was undisputed, her flaws were forgivable
only because I was in love, unconditionally.
The Skookum 