Kiss Me, Again, Again, and Again
The coppery taste of meat beneath your sweet breath lingers
like a penny on the tip of my tongue.
Heads or tails?
My equilibrium’s fucked raw,
as my hands drink-in the warm curvature of your hips.
O, glorious spit—
a little dab will do ya—
streaked red and hot,
never take me from this place,
haunted by the ghost of that breath—
that leaves me…
Words can’t capture what’s smeared on this cheek
sticky and sweet—
so why try.
in that white muslin dress of thigh-stretched daisies
that roll and grin like morning shadows,
smiling at secrets hidden in dark places.
(Originally published at Terror House Magazine)