When kisses fade,
when love drifts into hibernation,
a soft retreat into silence,
and the warmth that once held us
turns to glass,
we forget
the glow we were made of,
the pulse of stars
that brought us together.
It was no kiss,
it was an orbit,
two souls colliding,
melting into their own reflection.
Afterward, I died,
not in body,
but in the stillness
left between our breaths.
For nothing remained in the world
I wanted more
than that one momentum,
that endless now of passion.
But time,
slow antidote to passion,
crept in—
the quiet eraser of miracles.
I only wished
your kiss could continue,
outlast the lips,
outlast the touch,
outlast even memory.
But what we did—
what we could only do,
was ruin
a perfect kiss.
