As she was before my kisses.
As she was before my kisses.
It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss.
As she once
belonged to my kisses.
Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.
Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs,
still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds.
Let the wine pitcher
add to the kiss of love its own.
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories