other than chocolate, sex and red wine."
That's what she told me while we lay together
in the smell of our own sweat, sucking 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 fucking 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.