Where kisses go that’s been kissed,
All kisses ever kissed?
A list of things pressed to my lips,
Foreheads, cheeks, inner thighs,
Bourbon or the sweeter sister rye.
There must be an immortal trace
Like judgement for my sins when I die.
Lovers left without last rites
Read my sins with those lips I’ve kissed.
I kissed you well,
Earned my place for lovers in Dante’s hell.
Lift up these weights on my face,
Cheeks of foreskin cover my chin.
Read my sins,
The immortal trace;
You swirled her lipstick on her face,
Made a Pollack painting with your tongue.
Where have all the kisses gone?
Pour morphine over my crusted lips
Till all that’s left of me is hearing
Harsh sparks of a cold October rain
On crisp leaves.
Now I recall without a list
I was never forgiven with a kiss.