I lust for his lips,
the cherry red pout that makes
life a bit sweeter.

Destruction of sin
meets an unwavering faith
that will not alter.

Grip tightened on me,
Strangers falling in love now,
is it not over?

The cut on my inner palm.

It reminds me of the night you told me that
you thought we'd be better off going on our own paths,
and how my blood didn't seep as deeply into life's cloth
as your longing for someone new was aching above the surface.

Succumb into me,
and hope for the gift of light
to shine from within.

Barely warm tea leaves
brew with a blissful wonder,
reminds me of love.

My lips are glowing,
color, reflecting dew that
illuminates rooms.