To have our lips grow closer and then touch,
so we may feel each other.
(A prerequisite to tasting,
like fingers flirting with desserts.)
We're acquainted through faint, saintly strokes.
To then taste the wet world beyond the plush,
so it seems my mind is
leaking out of my world and seeping into yours,
just to be swallowed, leaving
my skull hollow.
And I know your mind does the same
when a lump floats down my throat.
To have your hands run across the goosebumps
blossoming on my neck, arms, and torso,
your callouses a bonus.
Your fingers kiss me just as your lips do,
filling my abyss with bliss.
To pull away a moment, making my mind eject
from your world and return to mine.
From there it finds the dome,
so I'm again enslaved by brain waves.
To press our lips together again,
hungrier this time,
for we've tasted the wonders
of this dessert—sweeter than sunlight
after a storm,
or its sheen aftertaste on grass
To have our consciousnesses intertwine,
a hypnosis of a kind.