It was touch eclipsed by emotion.

This emotion defined?

Undefined, in fact.

Love is a circle, lust a triangle.

This emotion exists in dreams and in my mind, where I cannot see it,

yet it is a shape as real as any clock or rooftop.

Before, I was kissed as if I were dead weight;

just a limp, inanimate body in some far-off place.

In this, being kissed as if I were only lips, a soul,

and that temporary wrinkle of contentment on my forehead.

After a slow-burning linger and break, he kisses my florid cheek.

The place he plants his smile leaves a marked spot of

where a tear would stop, if I were alone at that very moment.