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la lune la lune la lune she is my cherry seltzer seawater, low enough to catch the frothy sea foam between the crevices of my jade flower knuckles. sometimes she rides high (oh baby it makes me nervous) and plants craters with her juniper berry lips. she smells like seaside freesia and mimosa petals singed with toasted coconut (she warms my heart alright)
la lune is like rain kissed ivy and white frangipani, she is a seductive mess of jungle moss and sage bursting like the fourth of july against my golden melon lips. oh la lune when you feed me gilded amber and amaretto creme i cant help but lick the cerise coconut calpyso you have left between the spaces of the sand. i get drunk off her raspberry liquor eyes like starlight and dewdrops glittering against the water lily ocean.
take me with you la lune (la lune la lune) please intoxicate me with apple and driftwood words. i can be your white peach and vanilla orchid (if you promise to cherish me forever) — on second thought (baby) please crunch on me like caramelised hazelnut so that i can stick to your fingers like stardust from the milky way. its the only way i wont crack and fizzle into the void when your pink peppercorn lips descend into the horizon.
