The French Kiss Of The Heart Poem by Predicanda Emmons

you press my skin, so tired of dreaming
and loving and kissing and scheming and burning
without source nor punishment or bible or demon

we always fuse back heart shaped and bleeding
we count the years with crooked precision
we're up to our elbows in strike and conviction

wait dear one im still engraved to your hand
im still here with you, im still sewn to you
i still laugh at our jokes, i still dream in our bed

'im sorry for looking, for losing sight
im sorry for apologizing so many times
im sorry for crippling our love'

but now the stern moon looks on us by
entwined with the stars and hot with the yearn
you become the ball the shape the cloud
i become the rain the roar and the clear

night flushed our curse at the crack of dawn
you know dear one its time for us
to cover the flame and bring it to ash
and spring will revive us from dying