Maybe it was the burnished skin, the green liquid eyes, the quizzical brows and that faux black mess of hair you sleeked down for show. What I most remember of you was that mouth, that plump bee stung mouth, a mouth made for coos, puckers and eff you cackles, a mouth like a pommegranate, earthy and tart. You were the bees knees. You still are.
Comments 1
Reply
Leave a comment