switching rolo's from fore to fourth finger,
the chocolate mushing, spreading like shit
except from the toffee, moist and... sweet.
mixed with the grease, nit and grit, dirt
and sweat of me digits they're inedible.
so i passed it over to her, she nipped it out
of me hands with her tongue and chewed, briefly, then swallowed.
mmm, nice
she said
wasn't that your last?
yeah baby, and yours
left a few hours later after a frolick and a film
and caught a txt
i'm ill baby, make me better kiss kiss kiss
rolo-ver and die
well, don't, i love you
phone-hug! all is better now lov you kiss kiss
it went on, and we spoke with
not good, but different vibrations.
i was peering at the golden foil and trying
to stare myself silly, when she called.
thankyou for giving me the chocolate
she whispered.
that's okay, i was full anyway
(i'd always subtly rhymed in speech)
love you
love you too
the briefness of our conversations
was, in my head, a good thing.
kept us fond, kept us from thinking
of better things to do than be together.
lying there, on my bed, looking to the low heavens
I imagined, I pictured the two of us, rolling over
and over
and over again, from floor to bed to floor again
and how that at any time during the routine
one of us could have tripped, or fallen
out of line.
it wouldn't have been funny, we'd have frowned.
leaving her? it's like giving away your last... rolo.
probably good, but too painful.
it's funny, from the moment i'd given her the chocolate
i'd wanted it back.
but hey, who's to say
she won't buy me a pack
another day.
(see what I did there?)

Can't promise c4c. but I'll try.