Left over moments lingering on a coffee cup,
the only kisses that were remembered were
stained in red a memory of where this painted
lips had left there singular mark.

She had kissed this taste with her thoughts on
only the aroma that lingered between each sip.
A woman of taste but a echo was left ingrained
as she dispensed her needing and left her mark

Sitting on the high stool her unmotivated palms
linger around the warmth of this enticing needing.
Languishing on it she takes one final sip, and then her
mark is one that will fade, and another's lingers on it.