The pad of my thumb sits on your face
It fits in that place
where your brow and cheek bone meet.
Your mouth submits to the taste of my skin
It gets my attention.
Those thin lips harbor a chase to cure
The abstention you know I endure
Until I retire the entire set of rules
I've laid out, wether weeks or months,
In this case, hours, your goal will be completed.
Because defeated isn't in your vocabulary
I'd even consider it rarely.
You win.
Which is a win-win.