On the topic of kissingvoyeurprincessApril 11 2009, 01:05:20 UTC
I was introduced to this about 3 years ago, and it still makes me swoony.
I wish very much that I could hold your face in my two hands and kiss your mouth. I am sure your kisses could feed me: I could live on the sustaining elegance of their touch. A warmth and sweetness would fill my mouth, a wine of such eloquence, no speech, no words would dare to imitate. Your mouth invites kisses as honey in the comb invites tasting: as red, crisp apples want biting; as the cool, orange- yellow of peach and nectarine seek to be sipped, nipped, licked and savored. While the kisses of your mouth could nourish me and my soul for eons, no measurable time would pass through the duration of their gift, and lifetimes would endure while I kissed your mouth held between my two hands.
Yay Leonard Cohenkayti23April 11 2009, 01:20:30 UTC
Incidentally, I have a group writing project coming up that you will be invited to take part in, if you have interest and time. I'll let you know details when the date's a bit closer. :)
Comments 4
I wish very much that I could
hold your face in my two
hands and
kiss your mouth.
I am sure your kisses could feed me:
I could live on the
sustaining elegance of their touch.
A warmth and sweetness
would fill my mouth,
a wine of such eloquence,
no speech, no words would
dare to imitate.
Your mouth invites kisses
as honey in the comb
invites tasting:
as red, crisp apples
want biting;
as the cool, orange- yellow
of peach and nectarine
seek to be sipped, nipped,
licked and savored.
While the kisses of your mouth
could nourish me and my soul
for eons,
no measurable time
would pass through the
duration of their gift,
and lifetimes would endure while I
kissed your mouth
held between my two hands.
Jillian Bee
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Reply
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it - our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -
Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.
Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowsy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.
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Reply
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