Those Lips

Those lips, I watch them as I speak. Trying to imagine what it would be like, to feel them. Are you gentle or strong? You put your hand to your lips as you think, I want to feel what your hands feel. Be patient with me, I feel weak.

My distraction, your words. I crave them. Speak.

You sip your whiskey, I watch. The way the zest of an orange gives a bitter twist. Again, I am mesmerized. I don’t know you well enough to beg for your kiss. I don’t know you well enough to even ask what it is.

Do you feel like butter or velvet or maybe sand?

Am I overthinking? First date, of course I am.

I don’t know you, we just met.

Swipe right, turn left, the door is open, I hold my breath. Waited for you moments, now I know why. I’d walk through mountains to feel this high.

I’ll push through my fears. Fear of rejection, fear of regret. Maybe we know someone in common. Maybe I crave your lips because I know a part of your story …although we’ve never met.

Walk me outside, hold my hand.

You ask if you can kiss me, I say yes.

Your lips are my language. Am I fluent or just speechless?

That was many months ago, I must admit.

I still look at you and think…those lips.

And I ask, just one more kiss.

Inhale. Exhale.

Save this moment in my mind. I cherish it.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.