Fresh Love

Do you remember
what it’s like
to kiss someone
for the first time?
That warm taste
of his mouth,
the unfamiliarity
of his lips moving
against yours?

It’s been a long time
since I’ve had that feeling,
that newness and vulnerability
that comes with fresh love.

And I wonder
if time turns old
into new again,
if distance breeds unknown,
turns familiar into strange.

Because I can’t quite remember
how you taste,
how your lips fit with mine,
how your tongue
curves and twists
as you release your need
to devour.

I can’t quite feel
how it feels
to kiss you,
so I’m left with hoping
it is how I imagine,
pretending it’s new again
instead of dusty kisses
I can’t quite remember.




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