You’re stood in front of me
And I want to kiss your neck.
Just that smooth, olivey bit
Between your hair and your jaw.
But I don’t think I should.
I mean I really want to,
I just don’t think I should.
I can’t read what you’re face is saying,
As you’re stood with your back to me,
But when I look over your shoulder
Your thick ring finger
And screensaver of your wife,
Not to mention my heterosexuality,
Tell me I shouldn’t kiss your neck.
No matter how smooth and olivey it is.
© Carl Burkitt 2016