[ refusing to entitle ]

 

There's nothing like it,
nothing like the real thing.
Friends forgotten,
ties torn apart,
oaths overcome,
all in its name.

Standing in the middle of a busy street,
on a crowded platform,
at the departure gates,
the notion of embarrassment suddenly evaporates.
The consideration of others,
the worry of becoming a spectacle,
logic and all are tossed violently asunder.

For in that moment,
that electric moment,
when lips meet and minds connect,
whether in sweaty embrace,
sweet greeting, 
or blindly drunken glee, 
the entire universe ceases to exist.

Time stands still.

All you can hear is the beating of two hearts,
chiming together in one melody,
and the breath of your lover,
gasping to sing that song.

There's nothing like it,
oh no,
nothing like the real thing.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Unless otherwise stated, all text is copyright Alan François.  All rights reserved.

 

 

 

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