You have remained untouched at the side of the desk
where last night we made love over papers and poetry
and pens that worked and did not work
when held over blank sheets—
their nakedness turned us on,
and you pushed me to push the pen further
while the cigar smoke rose higher and higher
like the dancing of a ballerina
swirling and twirling simultaneously
with the curves of ink that I wrote upon the nude surfaces
that invited words to glide and skate smoothly
and mark forever on their bodies.
But all that is left of last night
is a dried kiss-mark of our last kiss
imprinted on the rim of the cup where you drugged me;
your taste no longer lingering,
now fading; the drug dissolving
into the waking call of the morning.
Melona Mascarinas is a Creative Writing student at UP Mindanao.