The lips I miss to kiss March 15, 2024
The old pop song
Pops up in my head,
“the lips I miss to kiss,”
Like a bad penny
It keeps coming back,
Haunting me,
The best part of a bad thing,
The sour after something
Utterly sweet,
Makes me think of the bees,
Whose passion
Makes them make
Way too much honey
An excess I appreciate
Even if I’ve not tasted
Its flavor in years,
Recalling how sweet,
If not exactly the tang,
Lingering on the tip
Of my tongue, teasing me,
And how soft the embrace
The lips I miss,
As the pop song goes,
Missed but not forgotten,
Even if I can’t quite remember
It’s exact taste.
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