Poetry, Romantic, Short Poem

In a state of bliss

The press of our lips
leaves me in a state of bliss;
rapture at the tip of my tongue,
your wrongdoings
and hesitancy can easily
be remiss.
right or wrong
the truth may not
matter in the face
of your betrayal, yet
I ponder, “Where was
your mind–heavens-sent
or kissed by hellfire–
when you gave me the empty-
promises-of-tomorrows…”

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