deepundergroundpoetry.com
87 shades of lipstick
We had that thing
and you grabbed me
by the face,
and rubbed my
lipstick across my cheek
with your thumb
I was so sick with need
I couldn’t make eye contact.
You told me to clean up
my own fucking messes
So I sank down,
skinning one knee
on the pavement.
My long brown hair
toweled off the
come on your stomach,
and my tongue did the rest.
You nodded as you helped me
back up
sure that I’d learned
my lesson
and stop throwing it
at you like that.
But I still couldn’t make
eye contact,
and the way
my lipstick stained your
shaft was pure
art.
We’ll have that thing.
Again.
Because I have 87 shades
of lipstick.
and you grabbed me
by the face,
and rubbed my
lipstick across my cheek
with your thumb
I was so sick with need
I couldn’t make eye contact.
You told me to clean up
my own fucking messes
So I sank down,
skinning one knee
on the pavement.
My long brown hair
toweled off the
come on your stomach,
and my tongue did the rest.
You nodded as you helped me
back up
sure that I’d learned
my lesson
and stop throwing it
at you like that.
But I still couldn’t make
eye contact,
and the way
my lipstick stained your
shaft was pure
art.
We’ll have that thing.
Again.
Because I have 87 shades
of lipstick.
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