Post Virginity

It's on the bottle,

On the lit cigarette,

The dirty sheets 

And sweaty bodies

That are tangled

Within the emotional

Textiles and figures

That dance in the walls

With each passing car.

It's the cats piano

And the manic that follows.

It's the mouth that opens

And the sound that lingers.

The terms and conditions 

Which form when entering into

A loft that isn't yours,

But someone else's.

It's chocolates and cigarette,

Whiskey and 

Of course

A solo sunrise.