We're done dining but
you keep fumbling
about a dessert.
We haven't made any.
It's a special thing
you say.

You accompany me.
My mind wandering
with no ending desire.

We're here.

Perfume of sweetness.
Between the scent
you smell a particular treat.
A sweet of mine.

You look at it.
It's fragrant yet
dry and empty.
You put some icing.
Now it's smooth.

You thrust your
pocket few in it.
Not long after...
A splash of sweet cream
fills the puff.
We enjoy the delicacies
The puff, for you.
The pocket, for me.

My desire is now
satisfied.