I should have stolen her napkin from the bar when I had the
chance, to bring home with the imprint of her lips on it, to keep contained
until in desperate need for the real thing I could not get later, letting artificial
lips kiss me in all the places I need most, while I pretend it is the real
thing, how soft I recall those real lips being as I move the napkin up and down
me as I lay in bed, like a dream comes true but only coming true when, well,
you know, this little bit of lips preserved and used when the real her is no
longer available, pressing these lips against my lips as I imagine us hip to
hop, this all done in the dead of night until I can no longer hold back, giving
into it, into those artificial lips.
No comments:
Post a Comment