[untitled]

sleepless clay of neon pink
molding and sculpting with my fingertips
[just as the child who pulls the bubblegum
with their finger, from their tongue]
swallow temptation between your lips
a salt lamp glow of a cigarette lit

still smells the smoke and cinnamon gum,
the kind I didn't play with because
we have learned to behave and because
I felt like pulling your hair
and playing with your earlobes instead.

both of us, still pressed in each other,
burning and melting in the brightest of colors.

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Edited to add that this is a revision of this poem. Any feedback regarding the revisions is welcome, as well. Thank you.