last night,
in the black hole
I regret to call my room,
I was taking shots of
cherry vodka,
trying to forget that
you are so far away
(but you are everything)
your lips are cherries
and I am lusting for just a taste
of that wonderful sweetness.
this tempest curling inside
my bubblegum-stomach
reminds me of how I feel when
you hold me close enough
that our skin melds and warms,
and kiss me, so hard and so sweet
until your taste lingers
long after you pull away but
it's not the same and
baby, it hurts.
this bottle I'm holding
is cold and harsh against me,
so unlike your soft honey-skin
pressing against mine
and I would rather be
drinking in your rough static voice
and getting lost in the deep-velvet
of your eyes
YOU ARE READING
Roses, Cherry Vodka & Her Perfume
PoesiaA collection of (almost) love poetry inspired by my beautiful and exotic princess of a muse. (Please please please read and leave comments, I need some critics because I wanna give this to her as a present)
