Ode To A Rollup

You sweet little temptress
Tempt me to have one more
What's another 7 minutes less 
I creep back into your pouch yearningly for a further fumble
Eyes closed 
Instinctively separating clothes from carcass
We've bumped this bop many a time now
Motions mechanical 
Manipulating your mass as the Sunday priest would his
Kneading your knots with the tenderness of a Michelin starred pastry chef
Operation firm yet gentle 
Caught up in the seduction of your construction
Dressing you dotingly in your wee white goony for eager inhalation
Fondling your surplus strands off fondly
Saving those little beauties for later as the Victorians would have done
Tongue tickles your back before thumbs tuck you in tight
My lighter sparks up the conversation
Let's get down to brass tacks
Our back and forth a delicate dance of detriment that we've gyrated continuously on countless occasions
Post chow charlestons 
Stress stricken salsas
We've pirouetted through a whole catalogue of situations and styles alike 
And not once
Not once have you left me chin to chest, kicking my heels, skirting the dance floor sombrely solo
You and I auld pal
We're a deviant double act
Burning our way through life's chapters against a silhouette of tar and tobacco smoke