How sad the kiss that never comes,
Releasing soul and sanity;
How cold the eyes that never swim,
The heart not freed from gravity,
How dry the lips that never meet,
Mouthing words of passion;
How cruel the palms that never touch,
With harmony through fusion.
How faint the cheeks that never brush
Across the softest lashes;
How pale the breasts that never flush
Lit by shivering glances.
How proud the stance that never yields
To hearts that court surrender,
How lost the soul that never feels
The peace inside forever.
How weak the wave that never meets
Its twin upon the distant peaks –
O! Love, the ghost that ever runs
To find the kiss that never comes.
Author's Note: Co-written with pastiche. It's still the only collaboration I've done that turned out well. lol
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