What is supposed to happen with leftover love?
perhaps you keep it between your teeth,
until it explode in the mouth,
shutting off words.
What do I do with the need to meet you under the sheets?
perhaps I should keep it between my underwear and my sex,
until I change my clothes change and it slips down my legs,
tumbling into the washing machine,
ending up as lint in the dryer.
Perhaps I could put it in a take home container,
store it in the fridge,
until I decide to throw it away,
along with rotten apples and past due milk.