His mouth-
God his mouth. My lips curl upwards
just thinking about it.
His mouth is
the warm place;
the place where everything else fades away
to background noise
and meaningless chatter,
the place which settles everything
still raging
in my soul.
His lips brush mine and
everything starts to fade away-
his mouth is like a temple with a great tongue God
which curls and then snakes lazily
until meeting me head on
in a kind of strong yet softest massage.
He holds me in a state of bliss-
warm and soft and so completely certain;
utterly and entirely addictive.
I would
never leave that warmth
if i could help it-
I’d follow him around,
attached at the mouth-
lips meeting lips
always.
Really like it the poem, I never want to leave your warmth. Xx
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Same. Get home soon π xx
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I met an Indian when I was in Hong Kong and the effect was quite the same. You are very lucky to have someone who can do such things – but also back them up in the emotional realm.
I wish you much happiness, the happiness that is found in someone as close to you as this.
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Thank you π and yes i am extremely lucky! X x x
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Oooooh! π
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