Favoured Flavours

He stands at the bay window
the quiet street
blanketed in fresh snow
lucky to be inside
during such a tumultuous storm

The greatest tragedy being…
there will be no fireside necking
or sticky panties to remove
for late-night endeavors

And yet she is there,
nestled in bed
addicted to the feeds of her phone
with no intention to dabble
in the pleasures reserved for cold nights

He has long faded from her radar
and it greatly pains him
that he is no longer
her favoured flavour.
Written by Tenderloin
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