We step outside and even though
you were only one option out of many,
I chose you.
You were perfect
for a seven minute fling.
Your milky white skin burns instantly
to my fiery touch.
At first, you play rough.
Your breath scalds my lungs
with the promise of a shorter life.
But as you ease into a pattern,
you begin to mellow me out.
Now we are halfway through
and your tan lips
are starting to soften
at the thought of this fling
coming to an end.
As the seconds whine forward,
you send me one last shock of ecstasy,
and then in a puff of smoke,
you leave forever,
with me wishing
that you would come back.
They say a seven minute fling
will take seven minutes
off your life.
I sit and ponder this
but still I hunger for more.
And although there are millions
of you out there just waiting
for their own chance at a seven minute fling,
the time you have given me
is as good as it ever will be.