Lip Syncing

“What lips my lips have kissed and where and why?”

Winters were cold when I spent them alone

breathing heavily, casting condensation against a pane

I remembered.

Night after night before solstice of Summer

slumbering beside another organ of skin

kissing parched, salivating, puckered lips

of different shades

of pink

But none of them were you.

Holding my hand, asking me to share

a dance of two lovers.

I simpered to void the numbness, to feel affection

But, none of them were you.

Our tongues intertwined, making knots

as complex as the plot in a black and white movie.

I tried once, but those lips had no experience

and others were too messy.

You want me to

want the solstice before Summer

when winters were less lonely;

I didn’t need to look for the ghost of your kisses.

Back when I knew the reasons for why I kissed

you and it was enough.