it’s in his kiss…
the first kiss
was like the last kiss
was like the the first kiss-
and as poetic as every kiss in between.
there was not a single kiss i did not
crave, adore, drown in, and long for.
there is not a single kiss i would not
repeat, dwell in, dream about,
create epic works about.
the first kiss
was like the last kiss
was like the first kiss-
and every blessed kiss in between.
but like no kiss from another,
and no kiss like no other;
no kiss and no love would
ever bring the mesmerizing heat
that ever lasts.
even though i often weep we are
in the past
i can never once mourn that
the first kiss
was like the last kiss
was like the first kiss-
and every lavish kiss that
we shared.
and every moment that
we bared
our selves and our souls
to only us.
our serenity found in just a kiss-
in just the first, last,
and every kiss.

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