Martini glasses chime with floating olives,
Cocktail dressed, and music playing,
Clamoring voices and velvet hands.
Will I measure my life in coffee spoons? -
Or plastic sticks where olives used to be.
Salty sweet like the sweat of angels,
You hand me my drink,
Electricity passes through your fingertips.
I am shocked.
You sweep me into your arms,
We glide over the floor,
The rock songs play but we waltz.
“Take your time, Love”
I tell you but you never listen.
Will you ever learn,
Or will I?
We do this dance around
All the questions we will ignore,
Just for one more moment.
One more dance.
Just one.
The martini glasses clank.
Cheers to the moment,
It hangs in the air,
Wafting, dispersing, infecting our clothes,
it lingers.

I want my thighs to make you lick your lips
and my mini-skirt to make you clench your fists,
I want my black lips to haunt your daydreams
and my dark eyes to drive you crazy.
Come closer,
because I may seem shy,
but if you run your fingers gently up my spine,
I can trace you with my tongue
and let my lust get the better of our love.

I hadn't cried in so, so long,
And here I thought that made me strong,
I was wrong,

If we don't mourn for what we've lost,
We aren't above the pain,
We are afraid,

The hardest part of life,  you see,
Is to practice,
What you preach,

I've been preaching endlessly,
My years,
All gone in speech,

But who am I to tell you so,
When I myself don't even know,
How best to proceed,

I'm but a girl, stuck in her head,
With a heart, sick and full of dread,
Open and in need,

Looking to every vice I can,
To stifle what I understand,
The truth is far too real,

What I choose is who I am,
Before I run and hide again,
I must; I choose to feel.

When the summer days were still long
and the nights still smelled sweet
like your sweat laced cologne,
I asked you to strip me
of skin and muscle and bone,
told you to look between my organs
and tell me what it means to be alone.

Your hands felt like warm metal rails
left to bask in the sun for hours
unsteady and loosened at the nails
with peeling polish and rough perfection
like unforgettable fairy tales.

And that’s who we were for too long
entwined and lost in the feeling
of never being so wrong.

And I'd love to take you,
And care for you,
And fix you.

But that's a waste of time,
And not my job.

I declare this a lazy Saturday.
We'll drink scotch in our underwear,
share cigarettes and stories on the stoop.
And just once pretend we have
absolutely nothing better to do.
Measuring the hours passed
with the pots of coffee
And the empty cups.
Affectionate insults, used as currency,
Cure  us of our quarter-life ruts.
We'll mix  nonsense
and narcissism,
A cocktail for the unrefined.
We'll talk pop culture and trade white lies
And leave adulthood sulking on the steps outside.

Her beauty,
It seemed untrue
Always turning heads,
And some hearts too.
But she got used to it
Too often, too much
Always got bored with the verses they sang,
But when he came,
The right one,
She was used to turning heads
and turning hearts,
She didn´t realize
what she had just passed
it was just another guy,
But was he really just another one?