Kisses.

Her lips are hot against my skin,
pressing against my neck in all the right places.
Each touch threatens to steal the very essence from my body,
begging my soul to leave me for a much more attractive alternative.
She whispers something, but I can no longer hear over the buzzing in my head.
I can feel her heartbeat surging in my body, it’s rhythm my own.
We are the same now, working as one with a passion unmatched
by even the sun and the stars.
When she pulls away, I finally remember to breathe.
I look back into her eyes and I’m once again transfixed,
held hostage on this bumpy ride until the roller coaster returns to the station.
She leans back down and surrounds me in a veil of her light blonde locks.
She feels like a warm summer day, smells like a strawberry patch,
and loves like a firework on the Fourth.
I slowly become aware that I can’t feel my feet,
that my fingers tingle as they brush her hair from her neck
and pull her head closer to mine.
The sofa underneath us shifts as she presses herself even closer.
A switch flicks on on my head and suddenly my mind shuts off,
like an old fashioned television.
And that, dear readers,
is exactly where this poem will end.

-ZCS

** “R3al Kiss” by Sway via Devinatart

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5 thoughts on “Kisses.

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