Already Too Late Poem by Natasha Dowdy

Clearer words had not been spoken; I was not to fall.
Your point and position firm,
A rehearsed monologue.
Expertly sharpened skills of such an artful lover.
Who are you to bestow such tender kisses upon my throat?
Melting away all apprehension.
My heart misunderstood your direction, something lost in translation, as breath and tongue meet.

We've wrote ourselves such a beautiful song
Playing one against the other.