I see her standing there.
The only thing I notice are her supple pink lips.
The soft flesh peeling away at the seams.
She uses her rose red tongue and in a swirling motion brings life to her once dead canvas.
I wish it was my tongue on her mouth kissing and licking every dry place.
I wish it was my hand on her body caressing up and down her thigh.
I wish it was her face I woke up to every morning.
She fills my mind with wonder and makes my heart swell.
I have yet to know her name, but for now she will be the girl who licks her lips.