Your parted lips
do not taste
Of sugar
nor of salt
Neither
these
thorned roses
nor
stormy seas
My fuckin angel,
Could ever compare
To thee
Your parted lips
do not taste
Of sunshine
nor of glare
But of the blazing
almighty Sun itself
(the divine source of light at a noon's twelve)
Blossoming blisters
on my tongue
Erupting volcanoes
are the pores
on my skin
at your
touch
You do not taste
of regret
But of promise
from the past
A mystery that sipped in
through murky wine
you are dark
disastrous delight
at first
&
at last
Unbelievably
(mine)
