Everlasting Impressions Poem by Mark Heathcote

When you kiss a pane of glass
you leave everlasting impressions
imagine then what's been a mass
if ardently you've been kissed-with-passions.

Love aches in its obedience
love races out of inexperience
love, latches onto last hope.
Yet try holding it like a bar of soap.

Lips like red parting fuchsias
dangle and repose themselves for a fall
they give up all their swooshes.
Lofty dances in an out-of-reach wall.

No skirting now they plummet:
wet fingers licked into a strawberry punnet.
Are origins of a onetime summit?
Mouth their silent words, their last argument.