other than chocolate, *** and red wine."

That's what she told me while we lay together
in the smell of our own sweat, ******* on lollipops
and deciding whether or not to shower.

There wasn't much left of the morning,
but we bathed in it anyway.

I watched crystalline juice drip
from the corner of her lips
and down her chin,
where I wanted nothing more
than to lick my own finger
and mop up her mess.

She would have told me
not to ******* touch her,
and I never would again.

And so I left my hands right where they were;
scrubbing my own skin
with mid-day sun
and waiting for hot water
to wash last night clean.