Kiss me like I’ve returned
From death
And didn’t look back at you
On the return journey
Tell me I’m your man,
Because although I’d rather do
The right thing and receive no reward
Than avoid punishment for the wrong act.
You’re the reason I don’t drink
Like I used to
The high from you makes wine
Like water
But I’ll show over telling you
And remain in place
The soil in which the brightest blooms of you
Shall grow
And when the world sleeps
I lay there, looking at the ceiling
Your breath tickling the hair on my chest
And tell you all this
So I am not humiliated by such
Earnest displays, even if you do not hear them
Still, I whisper,
Still.
MB Blissett 