She is like an indie film played backwards, just a bunch of beautiful pictures.
And her eyes roll like rizla between the italian mans fingers.
And her eyes roll like rizla between the italian mans fingers. She smokes with pouted lips, as if ready to kiss her lover.
She looks the same when he pulls on her hair and glides his tongue over the skin of her neck.
And she smiles the same smile when his teeth graize her nipples.
Her eyes also roll when his hands hold onto her waist and she remembers the lipstick stain she left on the end of her cigarette.
She leaves the same stain on the rim of his .... forefinger.
‘I don’t know why I like you so much.’ He whispers into her curls. ‘It’s because I remind you of hash and tobacco.’ She replies.