sweet (12/27/19)

honeysuckle lips

 

almost touching mine, but not quite

 

they drip below

 

the crook of my nose,

 

slide down,

 

                  down,

 

                                 down...

 

to the tip of my tongue.

 

words of adoration taste sickly sweet,

 

but confessions deathly sour.

 

i can't wash the pungent taste out of my mouth.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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