would one profess it a pity
running out of words
before running out of Love
is it sad the poem has to end as our smiles begin
the sunshine warms our shudders
welcoming sweet whispers halted by kisses
trading sentences for sighs
foreplay tonguing phrases
between the lines
how many Love poems are scribed
before new languages need to be learned
ti amo
ya tebya lyublyu
je t’aime
will henna dipped fingers
paint portraits of adoration upon spines
trace the pouting lips of departure
smearing tears into rainbows
lasting longer than the time span
between absence and reunion
what but memories and dreams
shall occupy the emptiness in the meantime
if not the exchange of proclamations
i adore when you leave me speechless
tell me how you feel

© michele mitchell, 2013
photo credit:


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