it is perhaps something in
your skin,
(your skin the inside flesh
of almonds) or in the subtle of
your lips which
pull-and-press-and-speak—
no,
whisper—words my inside beating heart
alone can hear
,that make me think of this:
Spring is in you (and too
has found a home in me); yet a thing is
missing—

the urge to kiss was meant for kissing