Nine Past Ten

Five damp spots on your sleeve as you scan what's for dinner. 

I couldn't care less what guests think. 

I'm numb to everyone else but you. No one else has a clue, but you get it.

You taste like fruity booze and smoke. I see our reflection in the window, and it all feels like déjà vu. 

We've come so far. You pulled the cry out of me, and I stopped fighting it. 

Everything goes silent after your kiss. Our mouths turned chilli-red, and my eyes stained your sleeve, just above your father's watch, now ticking nine past ten. 

Do it again. Do it.Again. Give me another one.