truffle: what is it?

What

shall

I say?

That

you

are

like

musty

nights

the

way

we

spent

our evenings

in the forests

near streams

and moss?

Do I speak

or whisper

about the blanket

of moon silk

over our skin

so fragile

we
cannot

unveil

with

mere
fingers

and

what
do

i
mention

when

speaking

of your

oh

so

delicate

tingle

earthy

burst

aroma

like woods

like nymphs

who play

in fallen leaves

in autumn

rainy

drizzling

where

you

and

i

lay
covered

all
moist

delectable

all
edible

like lips

that are for touching

tasting and sucking and inhaling

can i say

that you are

so deep rich

so ripe wet bite rare

so wise

so raw

that

it's easy

to remember you

your intense grounded

delicate whole robust smear

upon my tongue

like unapologetic burgundy upon my soul...

your colour

mysterious

dark

and still

that

with

a

simple

sliver

atop

light
creamy
soup

and

upon
my

senses

you
fill...

you

simply

fill.