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First Kiss

That kiss is still moving lips pursed not knowing how to open yet bud to bud. Then off to the end of my life it moves on blossoming into a hundred shapes landfall, rainfalls, waterfalls: beneath the soft flutter, the fierce hunger that first kiss still in transit, basking in teardrops, drowning in its own blood. Perfumed with honey and bitter root, adoring blindly, exploring, always delving deeper dipping ever into the mouths of a still transmigratory love.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Book: Reflection on the Important Things