Ssik
Anna Wildsmith
If I could kiss you
I would die
A death of words
Upon my lips
That could not speak of longing
To linger upon yours
Your beloved brow I'd brush
With scents of breathless breaths
Embalming you with essence
Of opposites of death
Sick in sickness
Sick in health
If I could kiss you
I would sigh
Sweet sound of sheer delight
And sew them on my severed soul
To always keep in sight
I fight the urge to steal your skin
To soothe mine which is blazing
My kleptomaniac hands are blistered
Barren of my craving
My body's bare but branded
With memories of bliss
And now that I'm left stranded
My love I miss your kiss
Sick in sickness
Sick in health
