Lipstick on Your Collar

I know you and I
have exchanged friendly glances.
We are most different, I realize.
Your skin is becoming wrinkled in age.
Your hair is graying.

I am just a few years past puberty.
My womanly figure is still new.
My breasts are creamy and fleshy.
My bottom is heart-shaped,
my legs more shapely.

I’ve longed for our relationship
to rid itself of it’s innocence.
Someday I will invite you over
and have you leave a mussed man.
With mingled hair,
from when I ran my fingers through it.
Wrinkled clothes,
from when they lied crumpled on the carpet.
Lipstick on your collar,
from when our kisses were most passionate.