Cigarette Sex Poem by Dakota Ellerton

I leaned on the window paine, lighting my cigarette with my foot dangling 20 stories high, above the addicts and alcholics and prostitues, the people walking below buying drugs from other tenants, I see them standing in the alley way, when the buyers are short and the tab is too high, I always see men lose their pride.

I felt high and accomplished as I lit up another, glancing back to my non-vacant bed, where too many have layed and been taken, I could barely make out a figure, as the night drapped over her body, caressing her as I had done moments ago. She looked so peacful and desirable, a thousand pictures could never capture a moment so definite.

If it’s not right, wrong never felt so good - her body so warm and soft, we’d pulled our clothes off of each other, with the first song we’d ever listened to together, ringing to fill every space in the room - so nakedly exposed, so vulnerable, I pulled her inside me.

She ran her fingers over my breast, kissing down my stomach, a thousands pins and needles, pricked my spine arching to an absolute orgasm. She’s had me, she has me, she’ll keep me - her kiss and touch so sweet I tingle at the thought, I’m too interested.

It’s too deep to throw my heart to the wolves, devouring my soul, to trust and be trusted only to find her in our bed with another woman, texts, emails, pictures, the thought of something so cruel could make my heart cringe - judging me to never have given her my heart to begin with, I’d stop before it began.