ice cream

it is
by definition
one big
grey area.

slurring
blurring
melting together
until it all tastes the same

it's dripping down your fingers
(iwanttolickitoff)
and watching your heart break as yours
slips off the cone and falls to the ground
is enough to make me cry.

you tell me your favourite flavors
and I lie about mine.


you were right, my dear brit.
it's never just ice cream.

this is painful.

the way you touch my hair
touches my heart.
do you touch other women
to tenderly?

your fingers whisper across my hands
makes me feel guilty
for how pleased I am at your touch.
do other girls hunger for these moments
as I do?

Your eyes on my face
lingering on my lips
watching me speak and laugh
drinking in and memorizing my features...
do you make others blush so?

as I rest on the edge of sleep

your voice moves in.

infiltrates the boundaries of my subconscious.

the words are foreign and beautiful

and although I cannot understand them, they break my heart.

they are heavy and dark, blanketing me.

"you're drunk", you whisper, smiling.

if I am drunk, than it is your voice that has intoxicated my heart and mind.

you and I are precariously placed.

delicate.

we are new.

and you.

are dangerous.

in the dark, warm state of mind

and delicate state of heart,

with your voice coming in waves.

provocations.

please stop talking
so I can stop watching
yourlips.
please stop walking
so I can stop watching
yourhips.
stop calling me "...Darling..."
so I can stop falling for you.

don't walk beside me,
or our fingers will brush
don't sit beside me,
or our bodies will touch
and I can't be held responsible
for the reprocussions
of such provocations.
(youknowhowIam)

and please, dear, PLEASE
don't take my hand--
I don't think my heart(mind,body) can stand
the way your lips move across my skin
and if you kiss my fingers again

we'll both be in big trouble