Corners of his mouth pulled up like a Bentley blaring music: MAN! His lips had so much to say. If I could touch them, I'd be lashed brass knuckle tongue. Blades for teeth to bite DOWN on the lyrics of my name. So sweet it does sound dripping like syrup from his lips. His smile as he calls my name makes my heart FEEL his happiness. Fruity tang of insults yet to be spoken because he knows to be sweet to me. And his teeth remind me of the SWEET release of sleep.
I've yet to touch them, But plenty of his smile stays with me far longer than skin cells of lust or love AND THAT is fine.