Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Her Kiss

Her kiss burned my lips,
finally found and so feverish,
her lips,
like an old line I’d read,
as soft as the moonlight,
with the strength of the sun.

I was disgustingly devoted to her,
lost in our love affair,
staying young forever,
as her lover,
leaving my lipstick stains and sentimental letters at her door with a flourish.

I always went back to her kiss,
how it shifted the sky into something stunning,
how the Earth fell away from underneath us,
how we stepped on the face of heaven as our lips met,
and how my lips burned,
begging for another,
and another,
and another.

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