The way I kiss him.
The way I hold him.
The way that I explain difficult concepts.
The way that I spoil him.
The way that I believe in him.
The way that I scream his name.
The way that I tickle him.
He also likes…
The color of my lip gloss.
It was bright red that day.
I replied, “It’s not gloss, but lipstick”
I bent over and kissed his perfect face
He had a pair of red lips on his face
“I love you Munch”
“I love you too Mommy” he replied.
He likes many things about me
My kisses are what he’ll remember
When he grows up and leaves me to find his own way
I will remember the day that I wore red lipstick
Not my usual lip gloss
And kissed the face of my sweet 8 year old angel
The color of red
Blood is red
The stain on his shoes when he scrapped his knee
The blood gushing from his nose bleeds
That the color red
Will never be more than sweet kisses
On his face
Or scrapes when he falls
Or random inconvenient nose bleeds
I pray for no red sheets draped over his body
As he lays in the street
Who liked my red kisses
© Tikeetha Thomas