[Series: Greek Love (GL)]
Love like this tastes like soda fizz after
I unknowingly shake it too much,
bursting in my star-struck face and
gluing our adrenaline junkie game to
the cat and mouse constellation pressed
on my flushed cheeks and his ghost
kisses that taste cheery like cherry coca
-cola to the side of my mouth.
We're recklessly rollerblading in this ramshackle house of hide and seek, I scream I'm ready from the bottom of my love laden lungs. From glance to kiss and kiss to chase, I'm whizzing past safety and tipping edge of the bed into the mercury marred skyline of your ardor and I can almost feel you cloak me in the hearth of your moth bitten jacket.
We're playing peekaboo with each other, trying to catch pantomimed versions of our affection and it feels like our love's a game and nobody's watching. And that's okay because we can make the silence our stage, turn it into the Moscow Bolshoi Theatre, slip on our masks and play our roles. We become chefs, feeding each other hors d'oeuvres sprinkled with aspirin affection, soothing our aching bellies and leaving our hearts hungry for more.
Or maybe we're singers today/ turning lyrics into gauze to patch our pains with euphonious verses/ but we're taped in between the honeymoon phase and the ether/ desires defying the parentheses of poetry an enjambment of fireworks/ and when it fades we're just left with our panting breaths, a smokescreen of yearning.