
A Love Poem Isn’t About
feeling someone else’s
tongue in your mouth,
or a quick around a bit
of curvaceousness,
or a rising desire or even
someone’s fumey breath,
but perhaps it’s about
the scent of rose water,
or the memory of a day
that linger like a first kiss,
or waltzes, in-step with
perfumed air, milky skin,
mint ice cream, or those
intricate twists of touch,
or affection … but never
the agonies of lust, and
have I told you lately that
your lips taste of ginger.
This is a draft, and not a very good one at that. Bits are salvageable though. Written for Miz Quickly’s 16 December: Some People Are Good At Titles. Photo by János Patrik and  Toufic Mobarak on Unsplash ©Misky 2021 Shared with #apoemaday on Twitter
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