I do so want to compare thee to a summer’s day, and let your temperance fall like spun sugar on my lips:
But face it, baby, you ain’t temperate, and I live in the subtropics.
So fuck it.
Fuck the peppermint dreams I’d think if it wasn’t (if you weren’t)… So… Damn… Hot… .
When I compare you to a summer’s day, I’m thinking humid, sultry, sticky, wet, so damn hot I have to pull apart my thighs, as your candy kisses melt like welts against my bare shoulders.