The other day I read an authors print.
"She wraps her lips around her words
like she’s kissing them goodbye
when she speaks.”
All I could think of is your puckered mouth
smiling back up at me under the sheets and
how you licked the guilt off your lips
when you told me goodbye.
I thought it was funny how your lipstick shade
was called innocence.
It was cotton candy colored
to hide the real scarlet colored A
shade your lips always had.
You always told me it was because
you bite your lips a lot
but I bit your lips too and
sweetie they only turned blue like
I took your breath away every time I spoke.
Yet I would always lend you more time to choke
on your lies,
because your lips
taste like strawberries.
I was never special like that.
Day after day, you’d leave the room,
drenched in your guilt
and I’d wonder if the taste of your lips
was also her favorite fruit.
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