a serpentine blush

you’re just like me

The frosted facets in a cut gem get the roughest grind, we both know this.

So let me sit pretty in your polished charm, I beg of you. I look all cute and innocent but I left my morals in the cupped hands of strange men a long time ago. I’ve lived a few fever dreams. I bet you didn’t realize.

Remember you said I could come by any time? Show me how to bathe in Eastern heat, serve up more of that mint tea? But you never did. Why bother bringing a bottle of wine when you come over, only to stare at a million dimly lit homes outside my window and confess you think we would be a bad thing.

Bad for who, I wonder. Let me read your mind, you just say when: you can’t seem to find heaven when fully clothed. Fingers over soft skin are a vice you can’t be free from. Your hands can either hold on to self-control or peel off this dress I got on. Never both.

There’s no need to sulk, sugar. Your perceived flaw is my simple truth, and a temptress gladly turns a blind eye to both. Let me corrupt you further, I don’t care. I am ablaze and I need you to burn with me.

So tell me another secret, I need to be in the middle of that. A flash of gold in that kintsugi smile of yours, that’s all it takes. The day is still young and the equator’s a way’s away.

I saw it the first night, on your lap under the street lights. Your hands in my bra and your lips on mine: when the sky turns dark, your eyes do too. A supine twist, a serpentine blush—

you’re just like me. Aren’t you.

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