Kisses like snowflakes, it burns my defenseless tongue - like a winterstorm in July, almost impossible to exist - yet missed dearly.
Traces of your figure, it framed onto my sight - like an oil canvas painted by the devil's grimace: full of love, full of lust - neither it set foot on heaven or hell.
Ocean like hellfire, it separate two souls, lost in a fictive romance - to ace, to aid, to....

I'm anything but romantic,
Everything but chaotic,
Fear the taste of your lips,
But craves the sense of your hips.