There is a bitterness
with every bite, as the juice trickles down your chin.
And you grin
within
the duality
as tequila cools your mouth
but warms your skin.
Pain is fleeting,
pain’s not sin
but pleasure is her vendable twin.
There is a sweetness
in the squeeze, as it gets roughly stirred,
it spins.
I spin.
If my mind became clear
I’d tell you then
I’m really only used to gin.
