When I taste tequila
He says the burn is okay and normal
the caveats of my tongue are pressed with the bitter solace
You don’t know how bad I need you
you are my Irish cream, my guilty pleasure
Dancing with the devil but instead dancing with you but is that the same thing
the moshpit of our own twisted minds and our consciouses are two twisted sweaty bodies
whiskey and red wine and champagne and all that
Why do I write about males
Hot commodity
I will pretend before I admit and admit before I realize
i can hear my pupils dilating