St. Patrick

Kissing you was biting into a lemon.
Shocking to every cell in my mouth and otherwise.
My heavy breath collided with yours, and the room spun
even without vodka.
Spinning with our bodies tingling together,
I knew I’d never tasted sweet sour perfection
before this moment. 

In this one kiss,
I dove into your body
and inhaled your seeds as our lips lingered,
pressed and shuddered in perfect slow motion
for years. But not enough of them. 

Sure that you could feel the sweat on my neck and
heart through my breast, I pulled.
I got three inches from your face
and looked into those diamonds
with everything to lose. 

But then you smiled and it was absolutely over.

In that moment my heart left me,
it is buried in your dimples, 
the sugar that calmed the electric sour,
the addicting sweetness that made my crazy cells
want know every single one of yours.