The scent of the other is the first to smite;
an odor like musk
making its way into the blood–
and then touch, as lips come in contact,
so many poems have been composed
over the decades
merely to describe this act,
so many others, perhaps only to understand.
The gate of a kiss,
it’s believed, is a defining moment that determines
if something truly exists.
The meeting of flesh, as lower lip comes
upon the upper
in a series of searing orations,
only- no words are exchanged.
Instead, a sweet ropy fragrance takes over
and tongue forgets to keep its distance–
a kiss can be ebbing of a tide
or an atomic explosion,
can make one forfeit or blossom as a rose
in a matter of seconds.
And blossomed I did, for shadows of his
face pierced through barriers of doubt
and welled up
in my heart with a slow pain–
I was infatuated,
and wanted nothing more than to write odes
to perishable breath,
his mouth, both soft and wild
spoke of promise of somedays and broken things;
I knew I would never be the same.
I am not in favor of being coy nor do I
encourage the dark, liquid loveliness of words
which are half understood–
rather, I prefer to take a chance
and explore nuances,
delicate shadings that come with countenance,
for I believe in giving your all; the best of summer
and august rain, both.
The gate of a kiss, is more significant than
the act itself.
Picture courtesy: Pinterest
Kim is our lovely hostess at dVerse where she invites us to write a poem that
describes a kiss. Come join us! ❤️