I forget what speaks louder of you;
if it is the hunger of my lips
longing to kiss you
or the kiss waiting discretely
to be born from yours
swaying on the verge of vulnerability

I forget if it is the kiss
that tender
and irresistible
becomes unbreakable;
your soul’s assent

or if it is the words in note
the morning writes and you erase
in an innocent attempt to
hesitate your truth
pausing at its tip

or the shrug
off your left shoulder blade
that briefly masks your will
before it is abandoned
at the edge of quiet moments
when you heed without refrain

It is the candidness of silence wept
to carry the ripest, sweetest kiss
onto my wanting lips
without disturbing yours
 in truth
unrelentingly
and quietly insatiable

you lose somebody only once
and spend a lifetime trying to restore
but once they're gone, forever lost they are
but wounds will heal,
and soul will hurt no more.

The Pastor points to the top of the sanctuary delivering fire and brimstone ! He proclaims the Son of God "stands among us " , is looking down , walking the crowd so kneel down , worship at his feet , be afraid and get yourself saved !!
Jesus Christ is drinking from a thermos , picking through his lunchbox , checking the time on a pocket watch , not concerned with attending a pep rally in his honor but busy directing traffic at the crossroad of thought , disguising himself as a homeless man on a city sidewalk ! Performing daily miracles that are taken for granted , the sparkle in a babies eye , the full Moon in the nighttime sky ! Answering to his boss just like you and I  , punching in at seven , clocking out at five ! A hundred gallons of unanswered prayers stuffed in a fifty gallon bucket !
Double timing across The Sea of Galilee to get four more !
Tracking the Heavenly Host , handing out work orders , keeping one eye on the Devil and one on Creation . Working overtime to rescue the sinner from damnation ! Delivering the word of God , unloading the freight car of Salvation* !

The snail strolls gently
Realigning hoped moments
A slow pace of consequences
****** and placed on tables
Harped to melodic tunes
Summed in upbeat sequences
The crescendo boils to ******
The climb of beats and undertones
All exposed and overlooked
The onlookers astonished
My ribs pinned out in pain
I squeeze to the cracks of normality
Attempting to slowly leap
To see the darkness of winter
To breath the stilled air
Yet, a hope lived, a life seen
We all shall make it to the end
Crawling to cut the finish line

There is a sensual surge
swelling  near the pit of his stomach
signaling his surprise
as through the door
drifts her query
"Would you like a margarita?"

Mid-day madness,
folly or playful fun
the tingle evokes
"Yes, I'll take one."

Eyes gazing  off to the distance
while fingers cup the chilled glass
Quizzical musings
and wonderment fill his thoughts
recalling  how this ensued
How could she still instill and
ignite a twinge within him
reminiscent of
when he first
locked his view on her eyes
and said "I really like you.
I really, really like you."