They say my lips are too big.
The bottom one hangs like an open rose.
Frowning when I shine them up,
observers stare hard,
wanting to become the gloss
that coats each melon at a time.

My soup coolers lay kisses on their minds,
leaving a residue of forbidden fantasies on their necks.
They imagine the damped heat moving up to their faces
and then lips, greeting softly and locking.
I pull away but they suck in my bottom flap,
feeling its natural fullness.

Their thoughts are interrupted
by a sinful and uninvited tingle between their legs.
Some stop looking and leave angry.
Few return in appreciation.
Others try to wash away the lipstick stains
but go out to buy a pair.

Cassie J. McCain is currently a senior literature and creative writing student at Southwest Minnesota State University. She was born in Chicago, IL and raised in St. Paul. Her work has been published in Mindscapes, the SMSU student literary journal