am I willing
am I able
able to cope
with the rope
that extends the time
tying years together
in predictive boredom
of birthdays yet to come
and fogged
by hollow words
mixed with cake and beer
and fear
having to do this again
and again
every bloody year?

Piquant spittle

and turning
to impart flavor
the relish
I truly savour

our tongues duel
and softly wriggle,
the quench
for love’s fuel
you kindly giggle

I taste
the zest
your piquant spittle
the remnants
of last night’s food
a little…