say, you,
were you afraid of dying young?
avoiding her pleasing tongue?
your eyes consumed her skin,
inhaled, smoked, swallowed
the air pregnant with her laugh,
the echoes played chase around your ears,
their breathing belabored yours
as you sweat.
and would you be kind and rewind
to the moments of tongues in cheek,
then, before your chest ever touched
her two perfect, curious hands
did run with care on days of weather
so unfair, then, your eyes of overcast
on her eyes of earth, yours of clouds
of storm forthcoming made hers,
of rain, of mirthful stains.
so you,
do you miss your youth?
do you remember the death
that came to her womb and spread
to her most lovely head?
whom will you have,
have her, or half of her
and you, or have you
better plans yet to wait
for that Greater Being
somewhere looming
to grant you deus ex machina?
and when you tell softly
of the one before the others,
you shall start in media res
forgoing beginnings,
because this story cannot start--
it cannot end--
do you still cling to your air,
exhales from the first lips
did feed you your heart?
say, you.
