The turning of the sleeve
up and over my wirsts
straightening the collar
moistening my lips

the curl of the smile
punctuated with a grin
the twinkled iris giggles
a **** kind of sin

I watch you perform
humour, charm and ease
the need to be believed
a backward kind of please

I let it wash on over
my ears like a hum
soft and forgettable
like a slowly rusted fun

You may start to taste it
that ever daungting flavour
I may have been your lover
but i am my own saviour.