(your) lips give way to 
three small (words) that
nothing can comp(are) to
what happens next is a phenome(no)n
my heart skips a beat (longer) than normal
feelings that I feel are (worthy of) you emerge
softly I fall for you too
you are (my trust)

l.e.

Your Lips Give Way To

pre-dawn, the creased ear
throat’s trebled tessellation 
feathers, gathered moths

phenome, paired, woven
nests wanting the glaze of dew
wing beats heart’s small drum

the distant echo 
of symbiosis rising
in hued, petaled tones

ephemeral, the poured glass 
of dawn’s edge in flight