i think about what kissing you
might have felt like;
butterflies landing on skin,
gliding across uncharted valleys
and plains; waves
gently lapping at the tips of
electric toes, returning home after
witnessing battles and carnal instinct
and bottles drowning, cause of death
stories that never found the desired
reader because the ocean is a selfish
being, rebellious, desperate
for shreds of humanity in
the middle of vast wilderness,
tenacious, ferocious jungles
kissing you might have been
gentle like the girl in pastel
pink, pale thighs quivering, mountains
of goosebumps erupting across her arms
when the indie rocker with an
"always" tatto and a phoenix teardrop
swirls galaxies into the milky
way that is, what her Lord sees,
sin
it might be the hummingbird heartbeat
of a first date, the aftermath of gunfire,
slow as toxic death. or kissing you
may have set me ablaze - a living, breathing,
burning bush. it might have been
the anchor i thought i
wanted, needed, pleaded for.
perhaps you would have forced me afloat
instead of seeing me drown
myself, not stopping it, turning away. kissing you could have felt like oxygen
being pumped into my lungs if i had
courage, wits, half a brain, a heart.
kissing you could have sewn
me together or ripped me apart.
kissing you was the end, kissing you was the start
of
everything.