you sign her hips with your tongue, slow and sweet
as dark chocolate, until her fingertips flutter
& her eyelashes curl. she's such an emergency.
you're such a tease.

and that lipstick of hers is vodka flavored,
so kissing her is nothing
but sloppy double shots, like strawberry arsenic
or her hand between her thighs.

it ought to be more.
but it isn't.