Your lips are like honey, dewed at the perfect point.

They call out to me,

Begging to let them graze against mine,

They don't need to beg though. 

My lips reach out to yours with the same urgency.

The same passion.

The same need.

They can’t seem to find each other though.

New roads blocks seeming to pop up after every barrier.

Each one impossibly tougher than the last.

Will our lips ever meet?

Will they ever fulfill that burning need to finally touch in a whispering kiss?


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