We taste like lakes of
writhing snakes
- cool washcloth,
on tormented heat -
a kiss that never ends,
that lingers on in mind
through days and weeks
All our sour goodbye kisses
holding on and latching on
final lungfuls underwater
desperate interlocking lunge
"do we really have to go?
will this be the last we see?"
- a kiss that never ends, until
it drags us back, to
endlessly
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