Lips, Lingerie, Cigars

By Bruna Jorge

The preference red coloured cigars on your lips,

Your lipstick staining it, the way my lips long to be stained.

Your beauty feels safe and dangerous at the same time.

The preference red lacy lingerie you wear to impress me.

Your love feels preference red;

The way you love me — heat behind teeth,

The way you hold me — grip then release.

Your lips on my neck — preference red.

The way you look at me — jaw tight, pupils wide.

Your gaze feels preference red, blinking slow, lashes lowering like you already know.

Your tongue on my skin — preference red.

The way you breathe near me — sharp then slide.

Your skin tastes like preference red.

The lipstick on glass rims, soft smoke curling.

The lingerie looped over the chair back, forgotten.

Your heat humming between us — preference red.

The preference red is everywhere, everywhere you are,

even in the sweet smoke of your stained cigars.

By Bruna Jorge