You pick me up at 8.
Nobody’s home, you’re dressed nicely
after a long day,
skin tight red dress.
You bring me close to your face,
put your lips to me, clasp mine in between yours,
your tongue rolls around my delicate glassy edges,
bright red lipstick leaves a stain.
you curl your fingers around me,
we tilt back together.
Tonight, you’re sad, lonely
looking to unwind, let go,
today’s been long, tiring, you need a distraction,
your hand trembles as you hold me, but
you won’t let go of me.
this poem is not about lust, it is about a wine glass.