Now your soul returns. Consciousness seeps in
around the edges. Blink. Look down between
your splayed thighs to watch me watching you. Grin.
Blush a touch. When you said: “Make it obscene.”
When you said: “Are you still my big sister’s?”
I paused, poised over your plump swelling,
measured not in single centimeters
but in intensity, encompassing
everything, nestled soft, held safe by fat
baby phat lips. “I was but now I am yours.”
I’ve changed allegiances like that before.
Once she fluttered awake, too. “Horny brat,”
she called you. “Mine.” Go blind as the world roars
back in you, my lips tongue-smacking your core.