Be careful of what you lust for on the chance you might get
it.
I am a kid in the proverbial candy shop, thrusting my sticky
fingers into every jar, needing to taste what I know I should not, still hungry
to have what I know will spoil my dinner at home, and still having been caught
with my fingers in too far, I still want more, to taste lips I ought not to
kiss, to press my hips to hips I know I will miss when gone, wishing then and
now and always for it, pretending I am wish or honest or fair, pretending to
take the perpetual high road I know I can’t possibly keep my feet on, stumbling
off the path, suffering the aftermath, wishing I ought not have, a wish for a
kiss or a press of hips or just a bid of cady that leaves my fingers sticky and
my lips dripping for wanting more.
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