"They are kissing,
long, deep, spacious kisses, exploring
the silence of the tongue, the mute
rungs of the upper palate, hungry
for the living flesh."
— Dorrianne Laux (Kissing)
"When her loose gown did from her shoulders fall
And she me caught in her arms long and small
And therewithal, o sweetly did me kiss
And softly said: dear heart, how like you this?"
— Thomas Wyatt (They Flee From Me)
"I swear your love
would raise me
out of my grave,
in my flesh and blood,
—————————-
like Lazarus;
hungry for this,
and this, and this,
your living kiss."
— Carol Ann Duffy (If I Was Dead, Rapture)
"You live now. You are in my guts and I am acting because you are alive. And meanwhile you are probably sleeping exhausted and happy in the arms of some brilliant whore, or maybe even the Swiss girl who wants to marry you. I cry out to you. I want to write you, of my love, that absurd faith which keeps me chaste, so chaste, that all I have ever touched or said to others becomes only the rehearsal for you, and preserved only for this. These others now pass the time, and even so little a way over the boundary, to kisses, and touches, I cry mercy and back away, frozen."
— Sylvia Plath (Cambridge Notes)
