A Kiss

I always thought that a kiss was defined by the

             loss

                                                                                      of thought.

Recent experience, however, has taught me that it is the
                                loss
                                        of oneself
                                                    in
                                                          thought. To touch lips and receive nigh a bomb of mental flavour that is realised in words that question the power with which, this time, your tongues met; advance braver than the last. Touch tenderer, grip contrast. And,
                                              knowing this,
                                                                    your corners curl fast through the meeting of mouths and the teething of your relations hip bump—skin. Nerves run the contact to brain, foreheads meet, sweet. Sighs catch-in-throat for the longest time. Arms latch like line drawings of wonky waves. Ankle braves the cold as heads slip under covers, hiding lovers.

We discover;
                      this is a kiss.

NKW