About Kissing

As the air from my nose divides itself

from the tip of yours,
skims down your cheekbones,

And my gasps vanish in between the gaps in your teeth

I recount,

while you push your face into mine

and scavenge for magic in my mouth,

how our lips locked so well yesterday

and how today,
as you wave my tongue
like it was manufactured
only for your consumption,

your appetite bobs off my face
like a ball of oil trying to dive in water.

I wonder
if it were my lips that changed their shape

or your intentions,
your tantrums or my apprehensions?

I wonder if you realize
that the lump in your throat

is the lie I'm choking on,

and that my lips
don't belong to you

just because you have touched them with yours before.