— a poem of potpourris.

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It’s better like this, no?

Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

Even before he left his kiss on my lips
I had held him too close at heart.
I never did want to own his being, yet
I gave him a fragment of mine, my most cherished.

I knew a love like his wouldn’t last to keep
Such a feeling had came along with the kiss
It’s now rooted, in great depths below
For me to always hold, so I’d never be caught short.

Although I’m no longer his nor he’s mine
I’d always tell his next-in-line — I know it’s cruel
Since he was the first who conquered my mountains,
He’d always be here, in loving memory —
as my very first lesson
of being in love.