confection sugar.

when his lips met mine,
i was still.

my dress flaunting bare knees
confection sugar lying where his
fingers grazed, recklessly picking at my skin
he liked his chamomile tea with honey
his coffee half and half
& his women tarty & sweet.

& inbetween his teeth
were torn plaid pieces of my skirt
seeking refuge
where his floss made love
to his gums
but not like the way he made love to me.

he who drove the tips of his nails
under my thighs
irreverantly pulling me inward
severing my legs from one another
playing hostage with my underbelly
jabbing and pricking until
there was nothing left in my voice
to strain
and there was nothing on my face to flush.

His head was heavy as it fell
beside me, his cheeks and brows
leaving sweat marks on his pillows
& the only heat i could feel that night
was just that rising off his body.

i noticed a pattern
of red and white dye form polkadots
around my sheets
never noticing his calves or feet
trying to wrap themselves around me
and recounted
the thin, white string he unhurriedly
slippered through his teeth and how he
always took the time to rinse.