Three Months and One Night

Hot and bothered in the moment of consumption, consequence is enclosed by a steam of harlequin and pheromones sucks onto your skin
Giggles jotting with the steps, keeping pace in pitch
Mirrors reflecting momentary finger fumblings and predatory advances into the sordid stall,
Slam!
She's pinned to the wall, eyes succumbing to a close in rapture, swooning in a seductive want for more,
Gymnast legs, wrapping around you so expertly and limber she could beast Lucan for the gold, as she squeezes out every inch of space between you, until your 98.6 is running into her 10.0
Warm, blood flushed lips leaving moist imprints and swollen bruises on your neck, leaving every inch of you wanting her,
Some seven inches more
The girls wants bold, she wants capture,
You, young ring-leader, to tame her with the whip of your tongue and the thrust of something can't hang on lines anymore, but stands erect at the promise of what's in front of you
Slippery fingers glide through baggy pants, and hips arch in unison, willing them to come undone at your touch
You can feel a rhythm between you, something more connected than the swap of tongues or the pulsing blood,
But that feeling of serendipitous union is broken as she pulls on her pants, and charges cavalier back into the bar with less than a salute to you or your "captain",
Three months late after 'the sex' mind you, that's just a guess-timation,"
Casually sending cliche lingo and acronyms, OMG, LOL to your new honey- -still in new- moon phase, loafers pouncing through the big apple as though they stole the pitter-patter from the rain, past a health clinic,
Sounds of alarm ring through your body, and sirens serenade the street,
Look at the temple of sexual identity and what do you see?
Gold primer covering ashen vacancy with only drug whores and society pity cases to revel in it's past,
"Welcome to the Family Center,"
The humanity in you sends some sort of morale through the nervous system, swelling you with the most vulnerable form of compassion- worry, for another
Stretchers hobble brute over the steep steps, towing away another '1 in a million girl' beyond saving, doing what she felt she had to,
Reflex eyes open to catch one last sight, and they wander over you,
You know this girl! You know her body and her blood-flow better than the bar you met her in
Passion killed Beauty because the Beast didn't know how to thwart her charms;
Or better yet, because he only knew how to swing a sword, but not a damn shield,
But Beauty brought this upon herself too! She could've said know at any kiss,
Who cares though right?
She's just another face nobody would miss