Crank (Crank 1)

apartment.

His lungs.

Bad habit, I know.

I watched hands, hard and etched

like granite, light a match

with finesse.

Do you have any bad habits?

I could have made up something.

Instead I shook my head.

Want any?

I wanted him. Bad enough. I reached

for the cigarette in his hand.

You don’t smoke, do you?

I took a small puff. Struggled

like hell not to cough.

Or throw up.

Careful. You’ll get sick.

So I did the sensible thing. Took

another drag. Felt better.

Come here, Bree.

He pulled me close, locked my eyes,

tilted his face just a fraction.

Then I really felt queasy.

He Wanted to Kiss Me

I felt it with every nerve,

every fiber,

every molecule

of my being.

I wanted him to kiss me,

with every nerve,