when he calls me darlin’ my heart trips over his southern drawl.
he watches my lips kiss red lipstick at a stoplight
as I remind him to look at the road when he’s driving.
he rambles about how wine gives him a headache,
I leave a red kiss on his neck.
he thinks it’s funny that I keep oranges in the backseat of my car.
he leaves the taste of citrus on my lips when he says
fruit in the summer reminds him of being a kid.
let me be your rekindled innocence,
climb my jungle gym all night long,
leave your sugary kisses on my wrists.
“forbidden fruit,” I say as the windows of my car fog.
we make love in a backseat of oranges.
I put sugar on my toast for breakfast and eat wearing just his shirt.
he says I’m the reason the birds sing in the morning.
I tell him I’m the reason hurricanes destroy innocent cities.
he runs his hands up my thighs,
my body shivers over a sip of coffee gone cold.
he thinks he’s keeping me safe when he holds me close at night,
he’s naive to the destruction love leaves behind.
girls like me are the reason people have storm shelters.
boys like him are the reason people forget to use them.
let’s spend our week nights eating cereal on the floor
when there is a perfectly fine table behind us.
we can go to the movies and sit in the back row
just to make out like kids falling in love for the first time.
we’ll paint the rooms of our house
and get more paint on us than the walls.
we can hold hands and go to parties we end up
ditching to drink wine out of the bottle in the bathtub.
and slow dance with me in our bedroom
with an unmade bed and candles on the nightstand.
let me love you forever.
everyone wants to be loved by a writer,
but have you ever been fucked by one?
you think their words read well on paper,
just imagine how good they could sound.