Let Me Kiss Your Tongue
What happened next, I love.
No questions. You did not hesitate.
Someone may have had something to ask.
But, oh. Dearest.
In that certain darkness, my eyelashes playing horizon
Drinking, drank up the spectacle of that glistening muscle
Emerging from your full-wet lips,
On my sentence. No clarification.
The tip of it.
There on the atlas of you.
And I wrapped my lips on it.
Drawing off, to full blindness.
You, as sightless as I then, moaned.
Funny, something so concerned
With a certain sense, one of the five
Knocks out others, so essential.
And blind we rolled.
You are not someone.
You are you.
It was a test, by the way.
One which you could not have failed.
And did not.
© Ciprianowords Inc. 2008
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