Poem by Max Bouillet

Kisses My Soul

"I am currently falling through god. When I hit bottom,
hopefully, there will be enough residue left over to rebuild
something --maybe something useful this time."


My reflection
leaks from the mirror
as I slip in the
remnants of my soul.

She speaks to me
in a Sunday voice
(the past mixed with
passion and reverence)
and says,

"Let me stain
your tongue
and drip from
the corner of your smile;
swallow me
and make us one."

Drunk on ghosts;
I fall into bliss
only to wake
at sunset
and die with the sun.

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