Your satin lips against mine
like dungeon lit with fulgent fire,
like lonely seashore kissed by ocean,
and a flower plucked by a sweet hand.

I stood still in numb shape,
moved only my dull raw lips,
and wimpy hands around your neck
tasting the coffee you always drink.

Like a dream turned into reality -
pure fantasy ever my mind made.
Like an empty delicate paper
but spilled by boldness of an ink.

I was a fragile and empty canvas
yet you painted the meaning of love
through a simple smooch of your lips
that stood as precious brush thereof.