Christopher Michael, gay, gay poetry

from sorrow to serenity

Last Kiss

if I had a week to live
you asked me, what would I do?
I would approach the man I love most
steal or beg a long lingering kiss
a kiss held so tight we stop breathing
a kiss I’ve dreamt but dare not ask
he holding me tightly in his arms
as though I accidently fell into heaven
lingering on that kiss
then run home
write it down
every breath
taste, sound so that with
dying breath
I could remember that last kiss

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