Stain my Face

not with your cum,

you sick fuck—

but perhaps

if you make me laugh

you’ll add to the lines,

the baby crow’s feet forking the sides

of my eyes. Perhaps,

with pleasure, my brow will write you,

or save your name

in the memory of my mouth.

Stain my smile

so that each time those fine lines

bracket my lips

or moisture emerges

from between my hips

it’s at the thought of you.

Stain me with your sunshine,

and I’ll let you be my laughline

so you can trace yourself back

to my stained face.

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One thought on “Stain my Face

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