So perfect yet rarely complimented
Not painted but shining with a gloss
That lustrous pink it’s so delicate yet,
They tremble and..
Quiver in anticipation for the touch of another
Kiss them deeply
Until your lips are tarnished with the sweet, musky wet breath they omit
Feel the warmth as they’re opaque strings of desire meet your saliva
And become attached
What a taste
What a sumptuous flavour
Your taste & mine
Make them meet often
~Q2K #myedit #choppedandchanged
(some words extracted from a poem titled: Lips are the window to our soul ~ LizzywhothefunkC)
I must devour you! I can’t hold back. I must. Have. You.
The dinner is over. Other’s may still be eating or dancing, but we have other things to do. You walk though the lobby as if you own the hotel. The confidence of your stride, your long black gown fluttering slightly from the briskness of your walk, cause all heads to turn. I, on the other hand, walk slowly, calmly, hands behind my back as I admire the curve of your legs, revealed only by the smoothness of the fabric as it caresses your body. Such a lucky dress. For a brief moment, your form, encased in black, takes on an almost abstract form - the silhouette of woman. One woman. My woman. You. Your contours exactly match those of my desire.
As the filigreed elevator doors close, you sigh and lean back against me. Gone is the formal pose you maintained for your business associates. Leaning against me now, I feel your warmth, your curves. Your scent, so subtle I must lean in to get enough, arouses me in a way I cannot resist. I realize than that our room is much too far away. I cannot possibly wait that long to touch you, to kiss your shoulder, your neck. I cannot possibly. I cannot.
Hazy Memories & Dark Vignettes- Holga Experiments with Brittany Markert- ©ErinTheArtist