Lipstick, Cherry red kisses lie Smothered by, Smeared, Disgracefully rouged over Velveteen Lips . . . She whispers ' Oh Dear Me . . . ' As another moral boundary slips. Well then . . . Might as well just Rub me up buttercup Play to the tune Of fingertips tracing Their delicate way To more playful places Wearing 'Dirty' expressions Upon both out faces As I begin to lose myself Within this space we occupy Known more commonly as Lust The Instance where need becomes must . . ?