Friday, October 08, 2010

Last Kiss

The taste of your last kiss is like rust in my mouth
as I survey all the time that has passed since
then. Your heavy eyebrows weigh on my heart now as
I spend all my time thinking about you in metaphors.

I lost equilibrium after you left and I coveted the musk
of your last touch. Each day after that is like a chain
around my neck.
Nothing has mellowed.

Some hours bring back the luxury of your skin as
I count all the times we swam in each other. Some moments
stand out like jagged peaks of pain and yet
everything smells of rust.


Roxana said...

you make me taste that kiss in my mouth as if i had been the one receiving it - so powerful.

you know, i have a series on the Bridge, the Last Meeting - i'm so amazed that you share the same obsession, with the same intensity. sometimes i can close my eyes in a poem of yours and think that i am in my own dark-unfolding world.

Kubla Khan said...

I will reply soon.

Kubla Khan said...

Roxana, hi

Whilst the refrain about things "last" can be seemingly obsessive to the outsider, yet, the emotive content of such moments is like a tragic and never ending unfolding of the preciousness of a time that is forever lost. To the ache of past moments or the ecstatic memory of past events is now added a dimension of some amount of bitterness, and this retrograde attribution to memories by our current emotions is as much fact as fiction and I will refrain from even trying to differentiate between the two.
I know that you are sensitive and hence you feel. There is abundant evidence of your sensitivity at your blog. And you are also generous with your praise and I am not just trying to back scratch!