Perfect Strangers

She kissed me like she knew me.

Tasting knowledge gained from loves lost.
Knowing how her day went without me
And how she’s glad to see me again for the first time
And how all she wants to hear is the first line from her favorite piece when I’m done writing it because it moves her.

She said I remind her of the presence of times passed,
And she wishes we could spend our past-time allowing time to pass.
Forgetting everything we knew about each other,
In order to make more room to remember the things we forgot.

We Stopped To Breathe.

I needed to ask her name.
I would’ve swallowed my pride but she did.
Obligated by closed eyes
Wishing we were in each others shoes to know how well we were doing.

Not for evaluation purposes
But in fear
Knowing that the weight of velvet lips don’t leave impressions
They leave legacies.

Me, knowing that antibodies can fight anything my lips can give unless they overheat from the warmth she feels.

And she’s well aware of the fact that, moments like this stick to your soul like lip gloss on your neck.

Married couples look at each other like acquaintances. Wishing they knew our secret.

We had the passion they lost.
The beautiful eyes of our children were no invitation
Obligated by those eyes we started college funds on strange lips
The room spun as the Earth moved and the only thing we could hold on to was one another.
Finding that Jesus isn’t the only stable thing in this world.

We Stopped To Breathe.

Butterfly lashes painted her cheek with vibrant smiles between insinuations
Bank statements and passports
They tell you less about me than she could and couldn’t move me nearly as far.

And I’m merely the part of her she’s been longing for since the Generation of Genesis.
She told me this by slipping the tongue with no stutter.
Moses was jealous.

Obligated by green eyes, we closed our lids tighter.
Dreaming that we could fall asleep
So we could wake, each other, up like this

Hearing the mesmerized Ooh’s of passing children
Inspired by what it must feel like to be a grown up.

Us lost in what it used to mean to be a kid

And I’m glad we grew up together.

Through rebellious adolescence
Pushing past noses, as if they were against us

Praying to see what our souls would inherit,
10 carat engagements, strange lips can agree with.

The pastor can’t find prettier words than she, so he said nothing.

We stopped to breathe.

Our lips came to a fork in the road and trudged the median until our legs seemed shorter than our inhales.

We stopped to breathe.

Solitude was colder than Alabaster. But those lips
Those lips create warmth without friction.
Silence was diction and we were golden.
Bank Statements and Passports, would get me nowhere in life.

She took me places Jehovah forgot about. Just so he could make more room to remember what we forgot.

We stopped to breathe

And I stood there gasping for air.

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