April 9, 2014
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I won’t give a damn
if there are red marks on my lower back
from sticks and leaves as long as it’s you
who peels the t-shirt from skin.
I won’t give a damn
if there’s a mosquito bite on my breast
as long as you promise to stop the sting
with the heat of your tongue.
You won’t give a damn
if there’s dirt on your favorite red pants
as long as it’s me who fumbles with your zipper.
You won’t give a damn
if the barely warm air of March gives you goose bumps
as long as I promise to heat your bare chest with my hands.

And that’s how we are, nobody truly gives a damn.
And you don’t think I know
I deserve more than
mosquito bites and red scratches?

You’re a damn cigarette, darling,
and I’ll chain smoke you till the sun goes down.

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