I have a collection of kisses
That I'm just dying to give away,
They hide in my drawers
My cupboards
My floors
But no one gives them time of day.
They bleed from my soul
Like scarlet bred tears,
They flow from my hair,
Like pretty pinks ribbons,
That no one really seems to notice.
They have become pigeons
That I cannot let free
They are kept in dank prisons
Because someone else owns the key;
I wish someone would own up
To the crime they so graciously committed
And return me my ominous cup
Of kisses and rhymes
For I so miss their chimes;
My kisses, my kisses are free!
Please do not offer to pay me
With anything but your true love!
For if you return my vat
You’ll certainly get it back.
I return what I'm given, oh yes.
