You all butter crust, baby
A flaky pastry
Crispy crunching those plans down to nothin
But crumbs on your jeans
Like she aint been holding out
Breathless, starving herself all week for you
Shaved herself down to a peak
For a bite of your delicate curves
Pouring over words looking for faults in her lines
like she’s gonna find where she came on too strong
As you crumble her confidence into little pieces
Mumbling like you don’t see the mess hidden in the creases of her dress

You all butter crust honey
Folded over and over
Like fresh laundry
Pressed and chilled and filled with not yets
And a little bitter chocolate regret
Like she let herself hope you’d be more of a jelly doughnut this time
Sugar sticking to her fingers and that teasing core that lingers
Leaves you wanting more
of that jammy gooey strawberry slam dunk centre
That couldve bent her over the arm of the couch
And had it’s fucking way
But nay
Thou art a flaky pastry baby
You don’t get tomorrow
If you don’t want today