The Vanishing Whisper of Love

The kiss of a lover graces my neck.

My head arcs back,

 As my eyes look to the sky and I deeply breathe in the air of acceptance.

I close my eyes,

Then exhale my expectations.

My hand rests upon the neck of potential,

While my fingers feel the pulse of actuality.

My other hand is thrust into the hair of divinity,

While I cradle the skull of humanness.

I kiss the lips of a promise,

While I taste the probability of betrayal.

An unshed, unseen tear of trepidation falls from my face onto the brow of desire.

I lean forward to kiss the teardrop from the soft skin,

But the tear never fell,

The lover never felt the pain,

The love never grew.  

Reviews

[Ask Nopf]

"The love never grew"
How terribly true that is.

This is a wonderful write! The pace and flow is a bit awkward at points, but I find it fits into the happenings of the poem quite well. The topic alone is quite beautiful, but the words you use to put it out in the open make it immaculate.

[...]

. beautifully written ...
. extremely poignant lines right at the end ...
. after reading these words, i somehow wish love always grew ...