Does anyone else think it queer,
with plentiful humans so near
that we bury our faces
avoid friendly gazes
to blindly pursue lone careers?

The humming of the birds
inside the butterflies of my heart and tummy
start AFTER
the blueberry-peppermint scents
of your hair tickle and dance in my nose, but BEFORE
the streams of amber and yellow rush
to drown the still forest living on your face, in warmth and peace,
so that I might see your lips,
acquaint my hand
with your hips,
to hush and silence these birds...
that's when I kiss you~!