(no subject)
These are the things I can't tell you... the things I'll never say...
You make me wonder. In the year that I've known you, I feel like I know everything about you. You're sweetness and light, innocence and purity, and I love you for it. But all the same, I wonder. I wonder what lies underneath the surface, what goes on in your heart of hearts, where your desires lie, and what they are...
I've wanted to kiss you since the day we met. Every time I look at you, my eyes wander over to your lips and I can't stare for too long lest I kiss you without realizing it. You have such beautiful lips. I wonder what they would feel like. I imagine how your kiss would feel on the back of my hand and on my fingertips, how your lips would feel grazing against my cheek, sliding along the hollow of my throat, every breath a warm wave across my skin, every kiss as soft and sweet as a honey-covered butterfly.
And then finally, finally, your lips would meet mine. The kiss melts hot and sticky-sweet into my mouth like maple syrup, as intoxicating and heady and smooth as hot rum. Sometimes I imagine it'll be adorably awkward, closed lips and shy giggles like high school sweethearts. Sometimes I imagine that by the time I get to kiss you, you'll know exactly what you and I want from it; you tease my mouth open with the tip of your tongue, run it along the curve of my ear, the arch of my neck, tracing, tasting, and I would be completely at your mercy and loving every moment of it.
I would fall from grace by way of the kiss of an angel, and it would be the most beautiful thing imaginable.
If I never get to kiss you, not even once, I think my head might explode.
You make me wonder. In the year that I've known you, I feel like I know everything about you. You're sweetness and light, innocence and purity, and I love you for it. But all the same, I wonder. I wonder what lies underneath the surface, what goes on in your heart of hearts, where your desires lie, and what they are...
I've wanted to kiss you since the day we met. Every time I look at you, my eyes wander over to your lips and I can't stare for too long lest I kiss you without realizing it. You have such beautiful lips. I wonder what they would feel like. I imagine how your kiss would feel on the back of my hand and on my fingertips, how your lips would feel grazing against my cheek, sliding along the hollow of my throat, every breath a warm wave across my skin, every kiss as soft and sweet as a honey-covered butterfly.
And then finally, finally, your lips would meet mine. The kiss melts hot and sticky-sweet into my mouth like maple syrup, as intoxicating and heady and smooth as hot rum. Sometimes I imagine it'll be adorably awkward, closed lips and shy giggles like high school sweethearts. Sometimes I imagine that by the time I get to kiss you, you'll know exactly what you and I want from it; you tease my mouth open with the tip of your tongue, run it along the curve of my ear, the arch of my neck, tracing, tasting, and I would be completely at your mercy and loving every moment of it.
I would fall from grace by way of the kiss of an angel, and it would be the most beautiful thing imaginable.
If I never get to kiss you, not even once, I think my head might explode.