you are not addictive.
the shape of your lips when you say my name is not
a promise. i watch the way you move- shirt off and belt unbuckled,
my door doesn't lock unless you slam it shut, and we don't
mean anything anymore. just another tangle of arms and legs
and heavy breathing.
you hold my hips, and your fingers are to gentle. i am not impressed,
and you are not a lover (you are to much)
you are not addictive
you are just pineapple arsenic, to sweet on my tongue and never enough.
a/n: well. it's something, at least