They wear what under their kilts?  Lipstick on a good day!

“Make me sway,” she says,
             “like a pendulum on a rainy day.”
Her hips do the motions her words portray.
That look in her eyes gets you every time.
And it kills you from the inside.
Press your thumbs into the flesh of her arms,
Stop her world from spinning.
Then you realize,
You’re the one who’s lost your footing,
She’s the one who’s crazy.
“Scratch, scratch, scratch.
                   Let me feel you.”
Paper cuts—like they’re the new in thing.
“Trust me baby, baby, baby,
                                they burn so good.”