the rare air

sometimes the softest lips  leave a mark,
a sign of passions, a small cherry on skin.
Fading quickly and nearly forgotten
until a casual glance brings back a memory
and the skin reminds us of who we have been

a Lover, a cherished pair, a casual reply to an embrace

Passions can trace time and we can know
the sacrifice of a few cells was nothing in compare
to the rare air that only exists
a moment before touch, on the verge of a kiss.