Prelude To A Kiss Poem by Will Gibbs

Her lips, made more to kiss
Than to cry bitterly for pain

Certainties and their certainty decays,
Withering carcasses, devoid of spine
Actions and feeling fluctuate:
Monday, merely temptations and desires,
Tuesday, imperatives and needs

Most fearful of my tongue,
What he will say and poison;
Undermining all the culminating falseness,
Undermining all the meticulous preparation,
Undermining all the staged misunderstanding.

Spending hours of mindless hours,
Fumbling around in the mental pitch,
For the person whom I feel no love,
I find my self confounded so.

This person, who I try to smother desire for,
Drowning al want for unified future
But this person, whom I should feel no love
The indiscriminate and sightless love peers on
I, like the sheep, drawn to the lady I shouldn’t
Like the convict to the fated gaol

Grey becomes black
Taste becomes bitter
Light becomes blinding
Feelings want to become real

Analysis and questioning fills,
Every void and space within.
But the more I seem to search for reason
The more reason disappears.
Locating hidden inferences,
That never once existed
I, now drunk on pleasurable lies

All this for such as simple,
Unrefined, yet perfect pleasure
The cliché of perfection,
The glistening crispness of sliding lips,
The vacuous clicking of saliva sticking

The kiss proves nothing,
Nothing, but the vital proof.
The test, the evidence,
Of ability and competence,
The test of future,
The competence of pleasure.

A kiss, that is all
That is all I ask,