Post by "CavalierZee"
Don’t kiss me with your fingertips,
I want the whole, unadulterated passion of your palms,
taunting my malleable flesh, pressing me against a wall
The anger that is residual of forced separation
shall be our making.
Don’t kiss me with a brush of your lips,
I want to feel the searing heat of your tongue,
moulding my taut neck, leaving marks against dark caramel
The pain that is residual of secrets kept
shall be our undoing.
Don’t kiss me with wisps of silk,
I want the friction of skin against skin,
casting statues in a tumultuous dance between curves and hips
The need that is residual of past trysts
shall keep us moving.
[By notsospiffywha]
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