Lips: like cliché cartoon roses.

Yes, red.

But open up my mouth,

Those lilies will  -   snap.   -   You.  -   Up.

Thorn in your side.

I think we used to fly with the bats,

The doves always ended up on our dinner table,

I told you it was chicken.

You choked me with Amen,

You squeezed me with your hand for grace,

For grace, from grace I fell

Down from the heaven...

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When you lit that cigarette

The bones of me shuddered,

The blood in me halted.

What I wouldn’t do for you to light my flame with your lips....

Because I’ve had men tell me that my lipstick tastes of petrol,

That my mouth lights fires,

That my tongue causes explosions

And of course, that opening my legs is the best way to put a fire out.

But this fire begins at you...

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