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Published: 2014-03-08 02:49:45 +0000 UTC; Views: 425; Favourites: 1; Downloads: 0
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Kiss me on the neck like you're single
and make me fall for your flirtatious hips
and closed eyes, hot peach sunshine.
Hot ice adorning your breasts,
how I feel the heat of summer,
summer's beauty in your pupils slightly dilated
from the dark bedroom keeping your gaze unclear,
but it's four in the morning
and who needs eyesight or foresight,
hindsight yipping its eager cry
when you wake up, groggy
but smiling like you're single,
single nights of getting drunk and laid,
swallowing vodka and kisses,
unprotected lust, too charismatic to resist,
too anxiogenic to repeat, too bizarre
to call back in the morning,
so I text you
and you put off the weight
like it would be easier to be crushed
than torn, but it's only two days
before you message me back at two a.m.
weeping words like
you're not single.
Sweet siren singing sex,
seductive honey eyes drawing
hungry humans to the queen bee,
hungry prayers,
praying on hungry humans
drinking nectar off your chest.
Let's put it this way:
we fucked up,
and culpability's a bitch.
I'm sure we'd both like to say
that there's a first time for everything,
but there's also a second and a third
and then there's us,
learning not lessons
but each others' bodies
because lessons are boring
and your body is not,
magical mistress,
undone-bra-strap girl,
clothes mingling with the floor
like you're single,
lusting loudly, deceptively alluring
smooth-skinned sex,
flying magnetic magenta,
ambrosia sliding down your back,
sipping sweetness,
syrup on your lips,
sore from teeth
too eager
to know you're single.
