neck·ing/ˈnekiNG/
Noun: The action of two people kissing and caressing each other amorously.
Both thumbs hanging on the back pockets of your jeans
while leaning against the wall and biting your bottom lip
enticing the oasis of your tongue, your breath dying of thirst.
Your flirtatious smile already knows that it’s entitled
to the mwah’s, ooh’s and aah’s coming the way of your pout
little did you know of the kisses you could fit in that mouth.
it’s the mathematical sum of everything that’s round
it’s dancing in the rain under an infinite fall of X’s and O’s
it’s nibbling on a bottle of Hennessy before taking a shot.
While I hold your face with both hands,
my eyes never wavering from yours,
I caress your cheeks, undress your thoughts,
feverishly going in, taking all the time in the world
to taste every bit of you and savor the moment so to speak
with our senses fogged, tied up in a tangled rope, in a kiss.
Then I pull some back to slowly feel your breathing into me
your clouded lips in my fingertips are a miracle of humidity
the stripped walls of oblivion is the last frontier with will see.
Before submerging deep into the point of no return
before your ripe apple meets the delicacy of my touch
before leaving in me, flower of skin, every last drop of you.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
neck·ing/ˈnekiNG/
Noun: The action of two people kissing and caressing each other amorously.
Both thumbs hanging on the back pockets of your jeans
while leaning against the wall and biting your bottom lip
enticing the oasis of your tongue, your breath dying of thirst.
Your flirtatious smile already knows that it’s entitled
to the mwah’s, ooh’s and aah’s coming the way of your pout
little did you know of the kisses you could fit in that mouth.
it’s the mathematical sum of everything that’s round
it’s dancing in the rain under an infinite fall of X’s and O’s
it’s nibbling on a bottle of Hennessy before taking a shot.
While I hold your face with both hands,
my eyes never wavering from yours,
I caress your cheeks, undress your thoughts,
feverishly going in, taking all the time in the world
to taste every bit of you and savor the moment so to speak
with our senses fogged, tied up in a tangled rope, in a kiss.
Then I pull some back to slowly feel your breathing into me
your clouded lips in my fingertips are a miracle of humidity
the stripped walls of oblivion is the last frontier with will see.
Before submerging deep into the point of no return
before your ripe apple meets the delicacy of my touch
before leaving in me, flower of skin, every last drop of you.
