The Kiss (as an end in itself)

Many young men
for I was once one of those
are taught, for better or worse
that the kiss
your sweet lips pressed to mine
is some sort of erotic purgatory
a vista point
a waiting room
on the long and rocky road
to heaven

at worst, a chore
to be checked off and endured
at best, a key
that will help unlock
the gates of paradise

And I must admit,
in my life, it has been treated as such
as a means to an end
(and we all know which end I mean)
not the end in itself

when the deep blue
of your eyes
greet my yearning pools
and my thirsty mouth
drinks deep from yours
your very scent
drifting out of you
and filling my nostrils
with the haunting essence of you
I know
that my journey has ended

There is no greater place
I need to travel
and I could easily live forever
in your kiss

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