The desire for a kiss on cherries red pairs of lips
burns into me.
Ice my skin,
my blood boils,
but I couldn't touch them,
the distance was too great.
A look into the mirror,
and I pressed my lips to the
cool glass of my counterfeit,
as if man could not kiss himself?
So he kisses only the fantasy of his thoughts
on a bathroom mirror,
in the naked consciousness of the facts.
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Jürgen Skupniewski-Fernandez.
Published on e-Stories.org on 09/29/2018.