Lemon

Walking along the bridge, hands uncertain

Maroon and pink;

I walk ahead, you grab my hand,

And of course, my heart stops for a second.

You pull me close, and bent down,

I pull back, -

remembering the lemon on my lips.

You smile, yes that smile,

And you pull me even closer,

Your lips crash into mine

Tasting the bitter lemon, 

Soon it turn sweet.

My lips turn red,

Not because of the lemon,

Your teeth still tugging at my lips,

Then gliding down,

To my neck, to my shoulders.

You almost unbotton- pink.

Then we laugh and stop, 

Because we're still on the bridge.