The broken chandelier left
dim streams of light across
the bar, more than enough
to brighten the shadows of
plastered faces glued to
wooden benches.
He smelled of whiskey and
cigarettes, a scent that
drew me in;
I spilled onto his lap.
From perfume and rum
inspired courage, I leaned
in and slipped my tongue
against his –
I tasted the smoke;
felt his fire as his hands
grasped my hips.
He slurred;
I stirred.
“Let me fall in
love tonight, let me kiss
the nectar off of your lips,”
for I was swimming in
the honey of his skin
and the sea of his eyes.
“I am not the loving kind,”
he warned.
But I was in a betting mood.
“Just maybe I can change your mind.”
– Samantha Prasad
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