Love , for you and from you tastes like champagne and stale kisses . And I have no choice but to put on the black dress that reeks of nightmares and memories and wear sharp red lipstick to make up for the lack of blood on my teeth that day , and saunter over to you with a stare that has all the warmth of a December night .
The club chokes on hip hop and jazz and the tables have men , with shining wedding bands on their hands caressing the curves of someone their wives gossips about .
I meet your gaze and find a void just identical to mine inside those eyes . The smile all bright but the stare all liquid shadows .
We move against each other slick with sweat and the sickly stench of fake whisperings , You trace the name of your lost love on my collarbones and I moan the syllables of a name too painful to remember , between your shoulders ! We move together to the cliff , fall , and surface back , only to again shove ourselves in the harsh kisses , the kind that don't make your heart fuzzy but hold a promise to tear it further apart . Taking , not giving . Demanding . Everything and more !
We pant against each other and you don't help me get dressed , I stare at the bloody trails on your shoulders marking you and I know they will remind you of me tomorrow , a black clothed nightmare , with no intention to form coherent thoughts . and you'll forget me after a couple hours .
Love demands ties , and neither of us has any length of our rope left to offer . So I leave ; listening to the beat thumping out from the club , Radiohead breathes "You've changed the lock three times , he still comes reeling through the door !"