Poem 5 | The Briyani Affair

She struts in bold, with heat in her sway, Saffron-clad, making you crave all day.

Spices drip like honeyed sin, Each bite daring you to dive right in.

Her curves are rich, her flavor raw, You want her bad, you're in awe.

She teases slow, lets the heat rise, Watching hunger light in your eyes.

She's dirty, messy, no need to be neat, Begging to be devoured with every beat. Juices run wild, she's made to please, In your hands, she's down on her knees.

Oh, Biryani, you wicked thing, With every taste, you make me cling.

You leave me wanting, never enough I'll chase you down no matter how rough.