Cucumber Got Me High

The tenacity of a hand holding artfully the green liquid cylinder,

Led even the goosebumps on my hands.

That sexy cucumber under a shape-shifting knife,

Trying to subdue the cucumber,

While it tried to run away from its grip.

More than the knife, it was how she held it interested me.

Using the thumb and index finger, she tried to do the deed;

Probably thinking of herself as a butcher,

Who would cut the flesh and enjoy bathing in the transparent liquid,

That would simply gush out of this wet cucumber.

What about the sensuality that one experiences,

At the very start where you just cut the t

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ip of this vegetable,

And rub it hard against the next layer,

At the top to counteract its bitterness?

Isn't that orgasmic?

That winter you had made a cucumber salad,

And I blushed at the very thought of you,

Having made something for me.

But you said that you were only capable of that!

Cucumber wasn't my favourite, but it did become that very day.

It was bitter, yet it tasted so good.

May be it wasn't the cucumber...

.....It was just something else!

Or may be it was simply the thing;

That happens when a sexy cucumber is combined with creamy aesthetics...