Kiss

So let it drip.

Let the real ones stick.

Evidently we won't exist.

Bleed through the carpet.

Bleed through the walls.

Bleed through the marble that you call stars.

So let it simmer.

Let it dry and glimmer.

For the ancients do not recall your name.

They do not know from whence you came.

So the analogies and archives are to blame.

That the others forgot we kissed.