She Tastes Like Trouble

You don’t touch fire to stay warm.

She don’t walk — she lingers slow Like she already knows where I’ll go Lipstick stain on a whiskey rim Eyes that say, “Don’t pray — just sin.”

Her fingers trace the map of scars Like she’s counting fallen stars She don’t ask what broke my name She just leans in closer to the flame

Every good man’s got a line She smiles… and crosses mine

She tastes like trouble on my tongue Like midnight loaded in a gun Like velvet wrapped around a knife Sweet enough to risk my life I should run — but I don’t move She don’t seduce — she just proves Some fires don’t need a spark They just wait… for the dark

Trouble… on my tongue.

Her perfume ain’t flowers — it’s heat Slow heartbeat under the sheets She don’t promise heaven above She says, “You sure you want this kind of love?”

Her kiss ain’t soft — it’s deep and slow Like she’s digging where old ghosts go She don’t want a safe goodbye She wants the part of me that don’t lie

She don’t need saving She don’t need a ring She just needs to see What kind of man I bring

She tastes like trouble on my tongue Like midnight loaded in a gun Like velvet wrapped around a knife Sweet enough to risk my life I should run — but I don’t move She don’t seduce — she just proves Some fires don’t need a spark They just wait… for the dark

If loving her’s a slow descent Then let the fall be heaven-sent I ain’t afraid of losing skin I’m more afraid of never diving in

She tastes like trouble on my tongue Like every wrong I’ve ever done Like smoke that settles in your chest Like danger dressed in Sunday best I won’t pray. I won’t confess. I won’t call this tenderness. Some fires don’t ask permission — They just burn… with intention.

And I let her.

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