dredpiratebunny | what happens if he kisses her

1. he does more than kiss her
passion is a true thing, the lava that holds the earth together
and moves where it wants spreading the gospel of desire and burn
colliding with oceans at full stop steam
only to join the earth and sky once more
what it was born to do

2. he experiences a beautiful moment he may never get again.
each time the seconds on the clock go by
they cling to the hands in near desperation to last
as long as possible
to resist the inevitable fade of the day
but the press of 24 hours 7 days 52 weeks is ever present
and everything ends eventually

3. a release of a moment of passion elevates his level of passion in himself
as if feet were never meant to touch the ground
dreaming of the world two inches away
a cavern enough for a river to wind through
bearing the weight of pressed molecules and tiny birds
the secret to Mercury’s dream at last exposed
fighting the Icarus drop to reality
only to sing of the air, only to want to carry the world on it

4. he may kiss her again in the future knowing he has “permission” even if i don't like it
the delta runs heavy with minute endless capillaries
the sea comes in and pushes against what the river once was
the sand collecting heavy at the bottom
with the weight of the ocean, the hands that carry it
and then
and then, the water finds its way again
into the arms of the anemones, half a sea away

5. the world does not end
and somewhere dirt of the earth breaks apart
in trembling cracks awakened from long sleep
what once was dead and dark pushes through
a few cells at a time
enough to be known at last,
enough to breathe in, breathe out
laying now in the sun while the salamanders scurry along beside

6. he shares “something more” with her that I would not be a part of
there is no storyteller
lost in this first person desert of heat and fire
watching the grains of sand dance among the wind like Jezebels
each one building something new
each dune temporary and mobile

7. he forgets about me
as if I am anything less a phoenix
as if the stardust in my veins could forget whence it came
and yet here I am traveling a path of many places
without moving

8. he returns to me, changed forever
but each breath counts the way change takes hold
not a burden, but a glimmer
the glare of a hot dawn horizon
the water that comes soon after to clear the way
to follow the curves of the land
we look to the sky now, instead of counting sidewalk cracks
we converge, we part, we drown inside each other
only to resume once more