Romantic Thieves

A chilly wind forcing the lips into blue silence,
Dry and fatigued revived by the moist tongue,
I think those lips and maybe the tongue, too,
Were meant to be stolen for the first time,
And then later, mine to borrow hers’,
And hers’ to borrow mine,
But only to realise that it did not last,
Only to realise that what was left behind
Was the whispers of hers’ and mine,
Feeding memories into our hearts,
Memories meant to tour the body,
Guided by each pulsating beat,
A melody that started by the thief
Who stole those lips and maybe the tongue, too.

Friday, 24th of April 2015