Untitled.

The words you say to me are clear,

as if made from the paper

they use to wrap up peppermints;

the kind that melt away in ones

mouth.

You dispense them ever so slowly

to ensure they are received

with the clarity they are delivered;

punctuations are dismissed,

not required.

I allow the tones to rest on my tongue,

placing in order of preference

for use as needed for the benefit

of love’s survival.

I marvel at the ability you possess

in creating patterns for this mind

that keeps me crawling towards your mouth,

for more,

lying face up to receive the bounty.

As I sit here eying you from that side I favor,

my head tilts at just the right angle;

the better to collect verbal offerings from

a lifeline that grows from your mouth

to mine.