Green chair that knows my sighs,
Floating wood coffee-table, that fears my feet.
Bex put the kettle on.
5 miles in a circle,
holding hands with an angel,
who thinks he is a wisp of wind.
Timing an egg takes practice.
Make sure to butter your toast,
breakfast under cover.
Quiet confessions of depravity,
sexy kneecaps on parade.
Some whispers are worth shouting.