In the dreams of kissers who never kiss, I dreamt of a kiss that never happened
Your presence in the wee hours a welcome gift of my aspiration
This time your face had been so close to mine
I could smell the subtle scent of coffee tied to my illusion of you
We were caught in a moment of hesitation
A mere millisecond of anticipation
Dream falling towards the other
Something might happen
Between two smiles descending into the entirety of the eternal
When the heart can only flutter
And the view is intentionally obscured
To blindly be guided by villus who whisper directions
Would our mouths melt upon meeting
But we never touch
A flood of emotions always awakens me
The way violent dreams can shake thee
I want to fall back into sleep
My lips still yearning for something incomplete
But I can’t find my slumber
Our touch must be tied to logs and lumber
And you so far away might well be just a fantasy
One that lives between words and a dream state done knitted
Please tell me if you where there, did we kiss?
I am drawn into the dream, and feel the anxious anticipation of your question. This is writing from the soul.
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