For H.

What of this wonder that kisses are
Our kisses neverending.
That sound of taste
Like distant lightning crackling inside our mouths.
Always somewhere new to touch
Always some part of us hooked on another
Legs arms intertwined
Fingers on fingers
Face and beard brushing against skin
Lips and teeth on a shoulder
Ear me, sore and joyous

What music.

What of it?