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I should have been wise to love, questioned soft white kisses that grinned like grim sickles bloodying my lips in mid-regret. Gray exit shadows streak across my face, bearing witness that once we touched: last-minute gifts in parting. One more cause for late-night wonder.
I should not have stopped at your laughter. I should have asked your intentions, why kisses deceptively soft and white as snow could kill.
Scolding voices in dreams say, "How unwise! Ask what all those fallen secrets signify."
Even now, slow white flecks still lash my lips. Mute floggings that say love is unforgivable.
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