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The Golden Baklava

The molten honey oozing out from the layers and layers

of criss-cross diamond pastries, packed with luscious emerald

Persian pistachios, and the fragrant cinnamon from the land

of mythical fire dragons, the rich raisins handpicked by sultan’s

virgin hoories from the ripe grapes on the caravan routes of the

mighty silk-road, Oh! what a decadent mixture of zahidi dates

specially bartered in return of a passionate kiss to an ancient

Bedouin  flanked by the flock of camels travelling across the mighty

Saharan sand-dunes, a heavenly sweetened delight capable of

seducing even the astute gods in the majestic skies, I just

surrendered myself in the feet of the great-Turkish pesermick as

he so softly made me sit on his cozy lap and put a morsel of the

golden beauty  from his lusty mouth into my parched mouth.

I fell into a hands of sinful ecstasy worth thousand opiates and my

promiscuous mouth just exploded with decadent flavors and for

my heart it just got ruptured as I licked the juices from the

golden baklava gently crawling on my warm flesh.

 

( Baklava is my favorite sweet, I just love it)

 

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