Recalling Your Kiss
I recall the kiss of your lips,
only to increase this feeling of desperate hunger.
Striving to taste the sweetness in a ripe strawberry
during the winter fast…
to quench my thirst in time of desert drought…
to capture fleeting youth with a net, broken and frayed.
Do memories mock the turning hands of the clock?
Do they give us the power to travel through time?
No.
For we are but ghosts in our yesterdays.
Unable to touch, feel, nor taste the sepia snapshots
of fallible memory.
Only one vibrant picture in bold color
to be prodded with the shock of a finger in a hot socket…
the ache of pain in my difibrillated heart.
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