Tarantino Would Keep To Himself (Director’s Version)

I never stood a chance
Not the way you opened your mouth
and the way your words flung out.
Slow like molasses.
Every word before my name
was a warning
I should have listened to.
Your tongue, a bullet loaded
in a silver gun tucked behind
your lips.
Your voice, the trigger pulled
in access.
Just because we’re framed close
doesn’t mean
we’ll stay that way.
I’ve already fallen.
Tripped even.
Struck by repeated shots from the silver
between your teeth.

In the wildest shot I can think of
it’ll be close to the last.
I’d fall in every way imaginable.
Your chest wrapped
in cherry dim light,
the first place I’d look for
something stolen.
At least a lighter.
I don’t know the name of the song playing
but it’s not a mistake.
It’s actually kind of catchy.
I lay on the floor
and bleed out in kisses
fired
from the gun hidden behind your lips.
The chef’s kiss before or after
the cherry is added.
don’t matter.
The least you can do
is tell me your name
Before lighting a cigarette.
I bet it can fill a glass and burn
just as sweet.
Or maybe it’s something Tarantino would write.
and keep to himself.