(Poem) Smoke Filled Lust

As their lips touch, she can still taste the cigarette smoke lingering on his lips. She inhales it; takes in the flavor. Can she handle it? The physical compliments, ignored phone calls, only casual sex to follow, nothing special to make her feel special? Maybe once he’s gotten what he wants, teased her, pleased her, got his, he’ll disappear. It’ll be as if it was just her imagination. She plans for the worst, but tries to give her best during that time. Sexual Princess. He wants the pussy. Nothing like the first time, it’s too late to back down. The kissing is intense, passionate, a reflection of what’s to come. Baby boy, he’s got that gift, but can he handle it? When the sex is good, it’s more, bodies getting in sync, two people learning each other intimately, two souls uniting even if only pretending to be lovers. Déjà vu. Déjà vu. It feels like this has happened before, so she waits, she waits, but for what? All she has is that experience to hold onto.