Of your open mouth,
I have learned to expect
the ocean air that keeps me alive
the cinnamon scent that spikes my dreams
the rose’s bloom that laces your smile.
From your parted lips,
I crave too much
A tempest of words that will set me free,
The soft music that mutes battlegrounds,
The sighs that lullaby a man to sleep.
From your open lips,
I desire salvation,
Benediction of my infinite days
But should you wish upon me condemnation,
I want your lips to burn me to the stake.
But of all the burdens I place upon your mouth,
Of all that I crave, and all that I miss,
It goads me love, something profound,
that your petal-lips remember this.
When next they open, they let fall
like crepuscular snow into the abyss,
the secret knowledge, the primal call,
from flesh to ash, they scorch me kiss by kiss.
©2013 Ani Keating