apple cheeks

i am small when i fold under
the weight of your regal discipline
i am no classic in my antique imitation
skirts and stockings
garters and corsets there
i go trying to lure you again baby blue
it's just that you are the king
of my genesis dreams i think if i heard
love waft from those peculiar long lips
like stacks of string sweetly lingering
on my hair i am sure i could not discern what you
were saying everything you utter unto me is
so
crisp