Soured Kisses

By Bud Koenemund

For "Her."

Every kiss that could have been yours sours
On my lips, left ungiven – infected
With quotidian doubt, which devours
The spirit; worsening when neglected.
You refused the amity I tendered,
Abandoning a poet created
In your eyes. This rejection engendered
An embarrassment time cannot negate.
I can’t claim a soul blessed with perfection;
But, despite my faults – which are manifold –
Each promise of honor and affection
Was pure – untarnished as the finest gold.
   This heart has been damaged beyond measure,
   And will ne’er again count love life’s treasure.