My fluttering heart is tight within your grasp,gaining ground in our sweet game of flats,calling out across aching waves to my Captain,captured in your complex, chronic kiss. I line you with my lipstick,circling you, like salt,sealing you in my spell. Mine. Mine. Mine, alone. These are my wishes.These are my terms.

The night is sparkling, starstruck,I am awestruck,underneath the orange moon,warmed by amber flames,waning in your waiting arms.

The way that we kissed will live on my lips for a lifetime,long after the summer rain has turned to wayward, winter snow,and our blessed bones have been reborn within the tender embrace of the Earth.

In the supermarket,in your arms,in on the joke.Under your spell,under the influence,under a tidal wave that will take me, if I let it.Up to no good,up to old tricks,up to our necks in doting, darling desire.God, you’re so good when you’re mean.God, it feels good to be seen.God, loving you is a dream.

Making myself over in the shade of the old oak tree,park bench salon,singing our song in hushed tones,feeling the thrill of your kiss,still tingling on my lips,living on in their longing. Is this the word that we worry about?I paint my lips to keep them patient and silent.I memorise the Elizabeth line,station by station,stop by…