…
Your parched, cracked lips taste like they have been deprived,
robbed of sunshine, shattered porcelain, and cutting mine.
But I continue.
I kiss the sorrow off your dark lips, and
taste bitter words, the foul bile of arguments.
I should not be your sun:
A sun will dry out anything. (Such as our love.)
The sun is unmatched; it has no equal. (You are my equal and there can be no two suns.)
Too much sunshine burns the skin.
(On the contrary, my endless hours of caressing your skin give only life.)
Therefore, I will be no sun.
My lips are the calm before a storm, as it hovers over your own.
With each kiss I breathe new life into your mouth,
soothing your cracked desert lips and bathing the Earth anew.
I rewrite the clay sculpture of our love, at the brink of being dried by my past words.
As my tongue molds the cracks together and peels away the dead layers,
I find the sweetness of affection underneath.
You held a flicker of a candle within for all this time.
Slowly, your Earthly lips turn warm and soft.
I watch your pupils expand
as if they were midnight seeds in rich brown soil,
cautiously blooming in your eyes.
For a fleeting moment I assumed these would grow to vibrant flowers
but I was wrong; these are no flimsy, seasonal flowers.
In your eyes is a strong sapling that will grow and endlessly reach for the sky.
In time it will embrace the rain with unbreaking branches that taste the falling raindrops,
falling like your warm tears before my eyes.
...
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 8:58 PM UTC
...
3.0 an unspoken question, speaking through eyes
glance at her feather lips,
her night sky eyes.
she reflects the dance.
see yourself fall into the depths of her starry eyes
watch yourself endlessly floating
hopelessly lost in her swirling galaxy eyes,
each shimmer, each star,
a wish, a possibility.
2.0 your head tilts left, lips upward
she is the axis of the world.
she nods down to meet you
a slight smile on her lips,
warm, welcoming,
a ray of spring sunlight in May.
hands entangled in her hair,
trailing black velvet in a breeze
caressed by soft strands of silk.
1.0 breathe in her scent.
breathe in the sweetest scents of
molten, rich brown sugar
smooth, Christmas vanilla icing
ripe strawberries in the summertime
0.5 holding that single breath,
like a silent orchestra before a symphony
anticipating the conductor’s baton
when it takes flight and
0.0 lands.
...
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 4:10 AM UTC