your lips disturb.
often they wince and form the bud
of a nameless flower.
crowned by a veil of luxury they threaten to blossom
at the slightest touch.
what a delight to see them tremble like poppies
when blown by the breezes of my gaze!
your lips tinted with the most succulent red.
sculptors of endless kisses.
your lips steeped in mysteries.

(Luis R Santos)