Her kiss leaves blood for me to fore’er taste;
(Drowning within one’s insecurities.)
Obstreperous fervidness is to waste,
When her disarming generosities
Are laid before me to greenly take hold.
And I do take hold of each occasion
Which, by mere kismet, arises—new or old.
A trice’s lust, ‘ternal love—combination,
Which cannot go without a ‘fore planned phrase,
Of some flawed description or minor term.
So imbibe, I do, her lifeblood—these days,
She imbibes mine too; (were one in the germ).
A connection of lips and breasts, hearts and souls; moreo’er I’ll
And she’ll coalesce in and of our own élan vital.