Kiss a writer

Today, you kissed a writer.
He's a kinky-haired romantic, with sleeping brows,
drawing you in to drink.
You savor his taste of unplotted possibilities and it scares you.
But that's okay, as no birth is stranger to pain.
You're inside him now, swimming softly -
You never know where his currents will take you.
But you know you will flow in poems.

Today, you touched a writer -
Somewhere below. He tensed and gasped,
Like he saw strange things in your sensations.
Did you see his face recording the hour - etching every detail into memory?
You're bound for immortality now, my dear.
Surely you knew - as you sucked those elixirs right out of his man -
He will fix you in raw moments irrevocable -
And his phrases will never forget.

Today, you wooed a writer.
It was a balmy feeling you left in his chest -
He breathed satisfied gusts of wind - puffed into the skies a joy no blunt could give.
You called him beautiful, while he rode a bumpy bus -
And he chronicled it at the final pages of his destiny.
Beyond the day you both die, those strokes will remember -
Leaping up and cascading down, dancing fierily into transcendence -
Like those fireflies at the threshold of Sango's world.

¶¶¶¶
Today, you promised a writer.
With your heart in your voice, pulsing to say things as perfect as "I won't ever hurt you --"
He tattooed it somewhere in a delicate poem, stored it somewhere in the deep
Now, he dares to commit his universe without fear
But should he?
One day, you may have to break a writer - and you may not be wrong.
But you see the consequence of immortality is that he will litter the aftermaths with shredded ghosts of you
And resurrect you every time he sees your color of skin.
You may not like it so much then, being subject to the trauma of a poet -
His demonic incantations, jeering on a reader's lips -
You promised! - he will yell!! - because even if he means to not remember, his poems will.
Oh the flagrant ways he knows to bends verbs and lash! And lash out at all of it!
Did I ever tell you? - the pen trumps the sword because history cannot be written with knives --
Ask the memories that have survived. Ask time.
So kiss a writer, touch a writer, even woo a writer,
But perhaps - you shouldn't promise a writer.
You really shouldn't.