The tip of my tongue
circles the tip of
it,
as if in orbit.
More John Glenn
Than Neil Armstrong,
Tasting a world
Other men have traversed before
And still I am
Grateful for it,
The essence of it
Oozes out onto my lips
Like clear blood
I need to sip
The more I circle
The more consumed
I become,
Drunk on a nectar so sweet
Bees buzz in my head,
I stagger with
The taste of you,
Too drunk to trust
Without a designated driver
Only I can’t stop
You, my life support
Without which
I might dry up
In this orbit,
All I have or want to
Going round and round
Feeling it get hard
At the edge of my tongue
And I still drink
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