Jan 212013
 

photo by melvin moten jr.I could count on one hand
the number of times he kissed me
throughout the entirety of our relationship
on one hand and still have fingers to spare
to cock and trigger an imaginary gun
and I wondered if this was because he
didn’t think I was worthy of kissing
The first kiss was
the heroin dealer’s freebie
first one’s free
the second stopped just
as I felt my body begin to
touch his in a way that faded all uncertainty
the second one stopped as
he pulled away claiming the
passion that was pulling invisible leashes was
a distraction from
business things that needed
to be done and if he succumbed to that
kiss that passion who knows what might have happened
who knows
my heart knows and I suspect his did too and so
unwilling to let slip that restraint the moment passed
an untapped passion dying a gruesome lonely silent death on my tongue
protests silenced because
well.
Because it was not my place to ask for more
and my pleas for more would have seen my passion orphaned
again
as it ever was.
And the third was the last, unsavored as such since the future is always uncertain
Hindsight limning that retroactively final kiss with
some subsequent significance
Standing in flimsy borrowed robes wondering how something so simple
becomes so fraught.
A surprised tear makes its way bashfully down the contour of my cheek.
And I laugh at myself…the only measure of sanity, really.
The physics of memory defy logic
and some small truths loom larger
the further away one travels.

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  2 Responses to “Three.”

  1. Beautiful… poignant. Perfect. x

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