Chapped Lips

They say that if you shrink the world down to the size of an egg,

Then it’s surface is smoother than a brand new snooker ball.

The godly peaks of Everest and Olympus,

The sunken depths of the Mariana Trench,

Or the towering structures of man,

Are all insignificant,

Unnoticeable despite their majesty.

Just as every crater, canyon, and mountain fades beneath scale,

So too do the cracks and gaps in red lips that are chapped.

In the cosmic scale of souls adrift in the universe,

The lines of your lips go unnoticed,

Behind the interlocking of soft sweetness that is your kiss.

But then beyond the infinite is more,

Your lips planets of their own,

Each ripe with wonders to explore.

Those chaps are maps of hidden places,

Pathways through the Goblin King’s Labyrinth,

And journeys across mountains of mist.

They draw me in, gateways to the soul,

Every strip of peeling skin a mark of life lived

Like wrinkles, laugh-lines, and scars.

So call me Columbus setting sail for new lands,

Your body a temple that calls to me.

I’ll let my heart lead as we entwine hands,

And forget the ups and downs of this insignificant world.

For nothing could ever eclipse,

A kiss from your chapped lips.

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