"Good morning, Sunshine."
I'm slipping between sheetcovered scenes
reciting the same lines for a desperate audience
always catching me offguard and between sets.
Well-practiced smirks crawl upon my face,
and I tuck away my sneers, parting pink lips
just for a taste, just let me taste you, please.
"I don't know how to say this, but … "
I slip my poison between your veins,
intoxication that rings better than a hard alcohol
and keeps me on your mind, all the time.
Siding with shadows at obscene hours,
and holding your hand in confidence,
it wasn't an act. This is just who I am.
"I know not much of love, it's not in my make.
But if I could have – I would have loved you."