Have you ever thought of those peck on the cheeks? Have you ever realised the stories they carry and the wounds they dress? I have, and I feel like no other feeling can ever parallel the enormity of this...
My father kisses As though bodies are being ripped apart And the only thing they can do Is soak in each other's taste My father kisses As though the garden he built Over years Has suddenly burst to life And the first ray of sun Has hit his soul My father doesn't kiss The mere surface of skin He kisses Things far beyond it His fingers linger in your hair And his nose collects your sweat Relearning it's taste My father kisses As though histories of familiar faces And known scents Are stored within And that somehow That fleeting moment of his lips And your skin Will redefine your humanity And as though somewhere A body will feel alive Again