Soft Lips and Listerine

The first time I kissed
those lips,
you came
up to me
in midst of all the bodies
and their loud music,

you said, come,
and I did with you
to the corner of the bar
where the middle-aged men have been
staring at me from
the moment I came,

but that doesn’t matter, I was
with you just kissing
before we made out
each others’ names;
your lips were
so soft, so cold
and minty that
I was freezing from
the beads of sweat on my forehead
from dancing before

I held you
closer, tighter
without questioning what that
familiar sweetness from
your mouth was…

The next time I kissed
those lips
I came
to your apartment,
no more bodies
or loud music,

just you and the same
minty breath in candlelight
not bright enough
to see your face,
only your tan tinted
by wicker glow,
and we kissed
more this time,
with tongue
and everything began
to melt-

my shirt, my belt,
my pants, my skin,
my penis
you kissed
and I came
unseen by our eyes clinched
so tight,
and cold…

Later you kissed me again,
with lips fuller
and you mumbled,
as if you were careful not to spill
words,

there is mouthwash
in the bathroom
if you want.