her face slid smoothly over his–
he peeled slowly but
her eyes still fell away.
No pantemime movement
in the eyes
as the empty sockets conversed,
agreed upon his slime and ooze–
as his velcro stare
filled the void.
filthy roses on his breath,
stretches tendons in elastic grieving–
walked the tightrope–
fine line between particle and crunch,
as he reached for her lipstick–
number for a name,
shade of black on skin traction–
bottom lip dangles, pouty,
now you’re lovely–
tension without a lover.