Red Dress. Blue Balls.

my underwear

he was wearing it like a bracelet

and he was touching me deliciously

and i taste beer and nicotine and politically insensitive jokes in his lips

and i don't remember which legs are mine and which are his

then i remember

that i don't want sex

i want love

in its messy glory

(for finding poetry in my babble, thank you, W.W.L.)