scribble scrabble

>the fourth shot instinct is always the same

>one tequila
you tilt your head, expose the vein i like to bite so much
i lick the side of your neck, leaving a wet trail

two tequila
i could swear the salt crystals shine on your neck
the light is dim with cigarette smoke but i still see your inviting smile

three tequila
you hold the lemon between your soft lips
leaning in closer to me you give me the look that turns me on

four tequila
i raise the glass and throw back another
i only need one more to forget her and take you home instead.