This kiss I miss

 

Saturday, April 11, 2015 (written earlier)

 

The kiss I miss

Lingers on my lips

And my finger tips

So rich a kiss

I feel the hiss of heat

gush up from me

from hips to each

each strand of hair

that frames the face

that contains these lips

a pain that is not pain,

and ache as stiff as bone

made intense by the taste

of this that lingers on my lips

like dew with the morning blush

of crushed flower pedals,

bursting,

I am a flower exposed

A bud exploding

A rising with the morning light

With the memory of the night

This kiss I miss

Linger inside and outside

My mouth,

Making me ache

For one more taste.