my lips, like molten lava,
slipped words out with a fluidity
that appeared smooth and even

beneath the surface lay the heat of the sun

they yearned for one graze,
but those who looked closely
knew they would only be burned
upon first embrace

past lovers wore mouths
more akin to pulled pork,
two slabs of meat so disfigured
from my desire that the words
that now left them
could only be a jumbled mess

i felt guilt, but more importantly,
i had felt pleasure

and in my mind,
a few scorned lovers
didn't mean **** in the realm
where everything spins round
my lava lips