i wish to write more poems about
the length of their eyelashes
as they get closer and
    closer
to mine, when our lips brush gently together

how soft curly strands of hair feel
wrapped between my fingers when
that kiss deepens and i pull her in tighter-
harder 

but, i still feel i am not allowed to write poems about that,
like i am not allowed to be kissing girls 

i was never supposed to be close enough
to her lips
to know each fleck of color nestled in her iris

like i was not allowed to know the scent of her this intimately
to write about it as if it were a sonnet:
shakespearean; dark and unattainable 

i was not meant to think of girls so long-fully,
dreaming of more fruitful words i might love them with

more poems i wish to write