I become drunk
on the honey
that drips from her full lips.
I swallow every sweet-word
she ever speaks.
The things she tells me
about loving me,
about wanting me,
about me being
the only one for her,
intoxicates my soul.

I am addicted
to her pretty mouth,
her tender diatribe,
but there is a process.
Sooner or later,
the things we swallow,
get expunged,
they leave us
in a steady stream.

O yes, too much
of any liquid
becomes ****,
even our body knows that!

And yet,
I still dream about her.
I'm thirsty for more
of her sticky-words
and her smooth tongue
that swirls around
in her pretty mouth
while she kisses me,
dripping honey.