Apoca-Lips

Apoca-Lips

 A young man doesn't always think with his head

There are often less admirable organs in play;

When decisions are made - those go/no go choices,

That you come to regret at the end of the day. 

I made a few bad ones in the interminably lonely

Years spent blundering up and down and everywhere.

I spent my energy in a frantic and stumbling search,

Knowing in the hard world, you were still out there.

Lips are stupid things that dull the wits and heat the brain.

Seven times I found myself fired off the wrong direction,

By gunpowder kisses, laced with hormones and fire till at last

I learned to keep them closed - for my own protection. 

Stupid me I never thought that you might not be

An ardent kisser; that you might be a creature

Of wind and fire, mind and passion more than I ever,

Bargained for, and that lips are but a single feature.

And in the end I found that passion is not the thing

I thought it was, when I was young and hormone-raged.

 I've learned a steady fire heats passion better than explosions.

And has settled in my soul; grown ever deeper as we've aged. 

(c) 2015 by Tom King