Your Sweet Intoxication

Topple headlong into your puple patch
of blush and loud words,
the ones that colour your tongue
and my memory.

The cold outside can't, won't,
reach you through that wall of
alcohol and laughter,
despite the cracks in the window panes.

The weeks is over and you
undwind like a top, spinning fast
through the milky way galaxy
that is your rosey intoxication.

It's a sunset, darling, that paints
the sky a shade of orange and red
streatching rouge across
your bitter, bitter cheeks.