How did I kiss him,
let me count the ways,
furtively, haltingly, distantly,
as if kissing were an experiment or a test,
maybe it was, a strange trial and error,
to intimately discover
if he were worth the effort
of bewitching me as a lover,
for in the alchemy of a kiss
lies its veiled mystical truth,
a secret pronunciation in all its finality,
I kissed him
amusedly, seductively, coquettishly,
wanting to enjoy the moment, freeze it in a cold casket
and if stirred not be my heart,
dismiss him intelligently,
yet if jolted awake be then appraise its majesty,
comprehend this attraction beyond its complicity,
I kissed him,
making the very act of kissing
a consummate affirmation,
of more than my leanings toward his chemistry,
or an organic orgasmic ecstasy
and then I kissed him
sensually, sensuously, sexually,
for I believe I honor a man with my kiss,
I do not lock lips in mere flippancy,
I should twist tongue with him
to taste his soul,
touch his mind ever so preciously,
to draw out his deepest beliefs, his darkest angst,
his moral codes rebelliously,
so I kissed him
and kept on kissing
lost in the spell of my own making,
breaking free from reality, forsaking,
that had me in its grip so callously,
now I longed to glide in a new galaxy.
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