Feel His Kiss

Sometimes I find tongues in trees,
and eyes in the sky,
They talk to me, like angels, and on the spoon of the moon,
I find the shape of his mouth carved into a constellation.
And a kiss the colour of blood,
I find my mind wander.
If, I were to touch his lips with mine,
Would his stubble graze me and stain me on the field,
Would it be soft and sure, hard and intense,
The taste of him sore in my teeth,
The mark of him scarring my face,
An eternal scratch to love.
And if I were to kiss him,
Would he love me more or less,
These things I hardly know,
Underneath sky
Underneath the shade of trees,
Underneath the lick of the moon,
These things niggle at the numbness of my lips,
They twitch,
To feel his kiss.


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