scent on my lips

The taste of your kiss on the tip of my tongue

as overwhelmingl welcome
as if I'm falling
arms open

with the skin of my back
into the heat of the tide

not as much of a fall
as it is a slide
or a much-welcome slip
that catches you
right before you trip
just hard enough to really cause permanent damage

what is more beautiful than this?
the savage
impulsive
imagery of we

simultaneously your scent
remains temporarily
phone sent

and yet it seems
for the moment

we wouldn't have it

any other way



*just a thought on the fear of trust:) *