You would know the inviting poison just from looking across the shining street,
Its true my red lips and eyes long for so much, and everyone whispers
“Its all in the red lipstick”
Coffee mugs, rolled papers, lollipops, and whiskey bottles
Stained with the pleasure
Kiss my mouth and I will leave my stain.
Ruffled bed sheets and expressive faces, loved forever and full of our bodies stain
Look for my friends with cardigans and hats, they escort me giggling on the street
Our floating and intoxicated theatre talk, full of pleasure
I will go home at night after talking myself into a frenzy just to hope you come to give me your whispers
Say things you shouldn’t: “I can see it. Images of cribs and baby bottles.”
Wrapped in a currently unreachable fantasy, but all we can say is its in the lipstick
So Paint my face and I will wear my pearls for you, my mouth gleaming with lipstick
And I know we will both be poor but we cannot run from the stain
That our alcoholic bottles
Will never fill. But I know you, you will walk through the street
You make me want so much and I will give you all my vulnerable whispers
And though its true I may be a handful, I love to see your sly smile of pleasure
For when you hold my face in your hands, oh what pleasure
And my lips will be smeared with red lipstick
But no, it won’t matter because I still hear those whiskey whispers
Please leave a good stain
Because my heart, its true it resides on the street
It could be stomped on like empty beer bottles
But this love potion concocted of glass bottles
Through my dancing, cooking, and flirting—I just want to see you feel pleasure
And this city, its true it will eat up our liver, with ***** Broad Street
So I will laugh my loudest laugh when I see your lips covered with my lipstick
And I will be glad to leave you with my colossal stain
For in the morning and in the night I still hear my past’s Southern whispers
But running only towards your whispers
Reinventing myself with poisonous bottles
Look at the rose colored stain
I know you see into this moon of pleasure
Within me my soul is covered with Marilyn Monroe’s lipstick
Longing, such longing, but we reside to our auditioning on this city’s street
Filling our lungs up with dramatic pleasure
I will cover the theatrical current like my lipstick
To only walk forward in the beautiful polluted street.