As I gaze and admire the hickie on my right bicep incarnadine
It’s a souvenir of lust, a medallion of excellence, a palpable sign
In its existence lies the premise that I ensured a satisfied customer
Unable to contain the obsequious afternoon delight any further
She sunk her fangs into the flesh of my limb most succulent
I savored every bit and in that moment I was inimitably opulent
That pain, that sting of the sharp incisors piercing my skin and drawing blood
A crimson mark appeared the next day as fresh as a red flower from a bud
I was filled with sadistic delight when I saw in a mirror the reflection
I felt it first when I twitched my arm and experienced an infarction
Little red scars that were evidence of a forceful penetration
It was then I realized that this called for a silent celebration
I kissed my bicep with a soothing kiss, acknowledging that it’d done me proud
Nothing says “You rocked her world!” louder than a hickie yells out loud

hickie

Dedicated to Amy Winehouse and her fervent voice that no crack or smack can ever kill

Advertisements