How many flavors of chapstick do you know?
How many lipstick stains
have you bleached from your collar?
How many flavors of gum have you tasted
through foreign tongue?
Tell me darling, is more than a handful
really a waste?







How many times exactly
have painted fingernails unzipped you?
How many times have you done that thing
where you breathe, hot and short,
right in the center of her neck?
(That always drove me wild.)
How many times exactly have you
inhaled perfume in doing so?














How quickly does your autocorrect
recognize babe, baby, and darling?
Do you struggle to keep it straight?
(is it the blonde or the brunette
who likes babe best?)

You said you loved the way
my collarbones felt on your lips,
and the way
my breasts felt under your hands.
You said you loved how
my breathing was laced with small noises
every time you ran your fingers up my back,
and how I pulled you into a kiss by your shirt.

You can take back your grocery store code words,
and I’ll shove every babe
you uttered back down your throat.
You can retract your tongue now please, darling,
I’m not so found of the taste anymore.
Remove your hands from my lace,
your aggression’s about to tear a hole.

This is for you, King of People Pleasers,
you sure as hell pleased me (and f i v e
other pretty girls).
This is for you, Secret Sex God,
where did you learn to be so discreet?
This is for you, Strong Armed Guard,
your back was just as good as any lock and key.
This is for you, Eye Sex Extraordinaire,
you gave us all butterflies (not in our stomachs).
This is for you, Analyzer of Shakespeare,
tell me the significance of these stanzas.