smooch pit

hold me so tender

— an audible kiss

one turns to many

— the luck of the draw

was there a time you are here

where i am

or is it all in the waiting that tells

we co-existed

deserted in the heat

of lips as it sits

on the very heavy part, on the interim much of time

more likely to be one's thirst

had you do it over and over again

straddled, brushing against the run

a round for few laps, less of a sound

pit-landing per millisecond

mesothermal on its arrival

— romance demands

gentle as the dream

warm akin to a fever

passing from right here

to there, then mine

to you— an audible kiss