"What did she taste like?", they asked him after his first kiss.
"Dark like her words...."
That's all he could whisper as he drowned deep in abyss.

The world spun a bit too fast maybe
that the lipstick marks turned into cigarette scars.

The story of you and me is my favorite story to tell.

I think about her naked sometimes
I probably think about it
because I doubt she would give me the satisfaction
of touching her in the heat of passion
so it’s just easier for me to imagine
walking in on her in the bath, drinking a glass of red
maybe cabernet sauvignon, who knows, who cares?
a light steam rising off the foamy suds
they cover only what I want to see
even in my fantasies I like to be teased
she is calm
as though she left the door unlocked intentionally
waiting like a painting in a gallery for me to clumsily stumble in
and find her beautifully sprawled in a Victorian tub with copper clawfeet
painted wet-on-wet like a portrait by John Singer Sargent
her milky blue and marble eyes soften my will like whiskey
and I find myself kneeling beside the bath
my hand gently trembles as it glide against satin velvet skin

My dreams won’t burn in vain
Not this time, my darling
Because I have you
These infectious nightmares will cease
And you will not
From the base of my soul
To the scarred fabric of my heart
I want you
These profound emotions and desires
This surging powerful drive
Slowly leading to my own impending insanity
Old inferior emotions and self-inflicted torture
Rapidly torn down by the new
Overwhelmed with a sudden selflessness
Yet, at the same time, I’m just as selfish
Melodies course through my veins
Electricity pulses in my fingertips
As I greedily touch you in all the right places
Relentless acts of pleasure
Movement and motion will speak tonight
For there will never be enough words
Because you are mine
Where I am yours