I know how to outlast —
patiently dine on the aperitif
of a woman’s chest,
and wait till the other barstools fold
before I casually suggest
we head back to my place.
The words like an answering phone:
“What do you say? It’s just a short walk, anyway.
Besides, it's too late to be alone."
That’s when she laughs.
reaches into my single-breasted vest,
and lights a cigarette off of my beating heart,
the one she’s pulled from my chest,
the one burning with desire.
She holds it like a S.T. Dupont,
letting rings of smoke curl
like the letters of a stylish font.
The bars is closed,
and so are her thighs;
her legs cross
as she takes another sip of wine.
“I never liked white,” she replies,
which doesn’t answer the question asked.
I gasp,
as she gulps down the flaming cocktail
of my most sacred organ
before my eyes close their last.
©2023 | K.F. Hartless
Written for Art of Seduction Radio Show
Inspired by the art or Ellectraart
Yard Sale of Thoughts 
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