Just maybe

I like
the idea of
sipping in
your scents of
amber, and
lime

while I
soak the bitters
of your controlled
desires

climbing slowly
down your lips

hide you away
in my secret recipe

and turn your
secrets into a

private delicacy.

Amaretto sour

I give in
my ears are pink,
into thin air
my heart does sink.

from your cranberry lips
a cherry juice
drips down
slowly, like amaretto
waiting to drown

in the red
of my skin
in the eleventh hour
of my sins.