A leaf on her lips

A leaf on her lips,

like clouds hiding the moon.

Under this white night,

the slow hum of my soul

echoes through my trembling mouth.

I wait with my lips parted,

waiting for that sweet taste.

Once, her lips

moved across my neck

under a blue sky,

near a lone beach.

I stare at the wilted leaf

in my wet hand.

For a moment,

the leaf begins to bloom again.

So I rest my lips on the leaf—

gently, quietly—

as if she is touching

my trembling mouth

once more.