I Bet...

I bet your lips are laced with absinth,
and I can get drunk off your kiss.
I bet your skin is electricity;
the thought of it just reverberates through me.
I bet your eyes are enchanted;
tell me how else is it that I am so spell bound by it?
I bet your glance can stop my heart,
I can feel it beating with every glance, stops and starts.

I bet you have gravity;
Your pull shakes my spine, what insanity!

Your curves and arches, cotton and rose;
You cannot possibly be contained in any rhyme or prose.

Your Kiss

I will translate every intangible line of your flesh
into words
in every living language, and won’t stop until
you place a period at the end of my sentence with

your kiss.

After all,

what is the point of poetry

that is not meant for 

your kiss?