If I could
brush my lips
across your skin
anew.
Escape
the gravity well
of all the other skins
I have tasted.
Unknow
the inevitable
knowing of what
comes next.
Erase
the salt of sweat,
the sensation of a live thing
against my mouth.
Unburden
myself of expectation
and the dull surety
of history.
Discover
your shore like a dazed
and shipwrecked sailor,
glad of solid ground.
That kiss
would be
the truest one
I ever gave.
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