I was steel.
Cold, tight-fisted, unbending –
teaching myself to stay sharp
until your hands found me.

You melted me.
Not just butter, but honey folded in.
Rich and decadent –
sliding into every corner you touched.

You made me remember
what it was to be soft, to spill over,
to sweeten the world
just by being held.

You turn my face with your hand,
gold in your eyes pouring into mine –
and I open.
Slow and thick –
golden and glistening,
melting into you, swirled with honey.

You taste me, and I dissolve –
all silk and sugar on your tongue.
Ay, qué rico,
spilled against your lips.