Self portrait with a kiss on my left cheek

There are things I crave almost
more than breathing
Old lips that have kissed years
Years that I wonder about.
I crave a wrinkle that holds me tight,
holds me right, holds me similar
to dates I have memorised.
I open my left cheek to the wind,
To boys my age and frivolity.
Alas! Time teaches you to kiss better
Till a memory is tickled
I’ll sketch it myself, this portrait
of your versed lip on my left cheek,
the tickled memories will be bubbles atop
and you’ll sign it for me.

LARDO