Kiss.
Restless.
Each tick (tick)
of the clock (tick)
is a pin prick (tick..)
on my spine.
feeling the static in the air
the blank moments
the empty canvas
(tick.)
waiting.
for the moment you become real
eyes to look into
and
warmth to touch
your arms
around my waist
and I’ll think
what a grace
it is
that we can finally taste
each others lips
in some (tick.)
reckless first kiss.