Lipstick On An Empty Shot Glass.

December 29, 2010

Sliding off the bar stool
her number on a napkin
I step out
into the
cold night air.

2 a.m. in NoHo
we’re alone at last..
I go south.

Your body a glove
soft skin leather
I unpick your seams
by stitch.

Looking into
those coffee brown eyes
I stir her
with my

The wine in my mouth
in yours..
the paper cup
to the floor.

She wore cheap perfume
from Walmart
but I didn’t really care
as I slid down
her neck.

Look at me
with your Saturday night eyes,
talk to me
with your Saturday night

In the back of a cab
you flash your New York smile
while I take pictures
with my

One inch of vodka away
from descending
into you.

Blood rush
my cheek brushes
against your calf.

Downstairs she got into a cab
as I was staring
at the marks
left on the bed
by her high heels.

Lipstick on my pillow
have no idea what number it is
don’t care
I just remember
her mouth.

She touches my chest
I take off her dress
motel neon on our faces.

I slide down
the angle
of your face.

She calls a cab
as I flick my cigarette
over the moon.

Chelsea girls
skirts and heels
smoky pub smiles.

shoes kicked out of the way
her handbag trampled.

Her lips were moving
but I couldn’t hear anything
only the sound of rain
on the window

Up against the wall
looking over her shoulder
I suddenly realise
that Caravaggio print
is awry.

My hunger
she’s in the bedroom
Chinese takeout cartons
left untouched
on the kitchen table.

Lovesick in London
New Year’s Eve
I throw up my guts
and heart
on the pavement.

Saturday night
cigarettes burning down in
beer-stained ashtrays.

Your lipstick red mouth
my broken lip
we paint the town red.

At Trader Joe’s
furtive glances
in the queue
she came
in a BMW.

Pachelbel in my head
I play her body
like a violin..
at 4.43
I surge.

Rain taps on the window
kisses trickle from my mouth
into yours.

2011 twenty minutes old
cigarette champagne drunk
in a plastic cup
her mouth on mine.

My phone number
on the tip of my tongue..
she starts dialling.

in the arms
of a whore
my desire

Stretched out
in her brand-new Mini,
her fingertips caress the back window,
my toes push off
on the dashboard.

My eyes half-closed
her tattoo drips in motel neon
as she breathes life into me.

3 Responses to “Lipstick On An Empty Shot Glass.”

  1. […] This post was mentioned on Twitter by Angie LaPaglia Mc…. Angie LaPaglia Mc… said: RT @expatinCAT: Blog Updated. New Post: *Lipstick On An Empty Shot Glass*…at […]

  2. dani said

    All interesting… hot… my favorite ~

    “Your body a glove
    soft skin leather
    I unpick your seams
    by stitch.”


  3. Andi said

    Have a Wonderful New Year, Peter! Cheers from Bucharest 🙂

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