A candy story

This is a candy story, a story of fusion
of passions, saliva and secrets.
it came to me like an ocean wave,
touched me and swept away swiftly,
like a roaring thunder, it struck me,
and struck me hard, and struck me twice,
the unspoken gesture left me gratified,
the celerity caused me the epitome of amusement,
and the gentleness left me in an amicable shock,
lead me to dance in an infinite felicity,
the  Utopia of caressing lips and love,
and a handful of love,
and a room full of it,
love, all the love.
On a scale of infatuation to deep affection,
I am pretty much naïve, but
I still don’t remember hands being involved,
fingers had the serious business
of being perfectly interlocked,
and the creases of our palms found their ways
to each other, like some crumbled map,
but they were away from the magic, away from the wizardry,
and a little eyelash came into the picture,
with its innocence, soon swallowed
by a churning tornado of the violets growing at the corners
of our closed eyes, the good ones.
It was nothing that I expected, nothing I signed up for,
but no sign of aloofness was present,
as if the answers were being breathed into me,
I could’ve survived in outer space and other galaxies,
and for some absurd reason,
my mind kept going back to the words of an old Bob Seger song,
and so I danced, and this,
this is the story of that song, that dance,
a candy story, a story of fusion
of passions, saliva and secrets,
this is the story of a kiss, which was enough.


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