I haven’t moved since the first time you kissed me.
Your lips drip laughter onto my chapstick,
filling the space between my teeth,
moving over my esophagus, slowly —
burning beneath my ribs.
This sweet warm wax, honey in my veins,
bubbling, hardening in my lungs —
squeezing the slightest sound of surprise, surrender,
from my diaphragm and I give myself,
relaxing in your arms,
to this feeling in my molten stomach.
My skin stiffens, my eyes glaze, my lips frozen
somewhere between a smile and a pucker.
Stuck in this split second, gazing at you,
encased in amber.