tip toe kisses are a blue moon, but not
blue in sadness, blue in rarity. because i was born tall. i was born all tall
but still wanted to stretch to reach each cloud, star or moon, blue or new, or
otherwise.
your 6'6 lips are my kilimanjaro as my 6'1
body tries to kill a man to reach your jar of jam smile. my hands are lattice
work around your neck as i vine my spine to match your tree trunk torso. my
toes want to push off the ground as i sink into your branches climbing to your
smile that the sun always reaches even when the lights are turned off.
tip toe kisses are our little waltz as moon
river plays in the background of my mind. i will be the holly to your paul and
all melts into your strong arms that support my pointe shoe feet as i reach
each lip.
adam dalton
blake
advanced
poetry workshop
