vodka with lemon syrup

we sat together in the candlelight, your
face swimming in and out of my consciousness
as we made small talk.

then the waiter came.
vodka with lemon syrup for you and orange juice for me.
you were a vision in red, and your nails, the colour of
onyx, reflected my fingers as I fumbled with the sleeves
of my T-shirt.

you closed your eyes and smiled as
Chopin blasted foreign notes in the background.
I tried to listen but I could only hear the sound
of your fingers tapping a complicated rhythm on the table.

I stared at your seductive lips
curled in a grin of pleasure
and forced my unpainted ones into the same position. You
tossed your midnight hair before my face, and I struggled
not to bury myself inside

my orange juice left a slimy residue while
your glass was sticky yet clear, transparent – the result
of a shallow drink, just like you.

Author’s Note: Another strange one I wrote. Seems pretty trashy to me, but ah well. Oh damn. Is this considered angst?? Bad, bad me. Maybe it’s due to the fact that school’s starting in less than a week’s time. Joy to the world. Merry New Year, everyone. Well, perhaps not so merry.