The stale coffee on your breath
and dark eyes to which I sank
as I kissed you half to death
and your greedy ardor drank.
Laughing, snapping teeth so white --
would you really truly bite me?
Holding on to what so tight,
since you never had to fight me?
I pushed down upon your hips,
tracing moles upon your back;
as you licked your ragged lips
and I called you 'Heart Attack."
Plucking eyebrows, brushing hair --
doing all that girly stuff;
I would watch you from a chair
and could never get enough.
I last saw you years ago
at the airport in Bangkok.
It was all so allegro;
it made love a laughingstock.
Now the mountains here are white
like the hair upon my head;
I still think of you at night
and could wish that I were dead.
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