She's a spirit.
flowing through life on her own terms.
At times bitter.
Only for the few who could handle her
What a shot.
He was everything else.
Everything she was supposed to get,
it dripped.
Dripped from his fingertips to her lips.
A real slice.
Alone it was a hit or miss.
You could inhale either, separately, at risk
still tart, still bitter perhaps.
She calms as he drips within her.
Her body opens as he moves inside her.
Her spirit enhances as he develops her.
The taste for her grows
because he encountered her.