Her lips. A poet's *******. I crave them In the most Euphoric way. I tremble from The pink electricity That passes Between Them and my own. A high that dizzies My head follows, As I crash into Her tongue. An art so addictive That I must immediately Write it down. Romance fills my pen As the ink remembers Every stain That her lips Left on mine.
I don't do *******, nor have I ever, but I can imagine the intense cravings and high it brings as I imagine her lips.