il bacio

il bacio

I miss your mouth,

the way my name danced around your lips

like it always belonged,

as if it was home.

Your lips,

made to fit mine,

perfectly incompatible,

coloured by every other mouth

you’ve ever devoured.

The memory of the night before,

I could taste in that kiss,

exquisite agony

fade to tender release.

But would that kiss

have been quite so arresting,

or would the taint of sadness

have bittered the sweet,

had I known then

that it would be the last.

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