Your lips, the unseen beauty of your face,
the tender skin I want to trace.
To kiss them so soft and tender in my touch,
slowly and then in abandoned rush.
Oh to taste the passion that lays therein
on your tongue I can taste our sin.
I am mesmerised they are my nectar
the red blush a hint of a kiss from a fallen star.
They whisper to the succubus that dwells within me
the driving force of this deep carnal need.
I must have them pressed against my own
such primal desires the thought of you have sown.
They are the cause of my essence to flow,
upon those lips a taste I truly must know.
They are the thirst I hope to never quench,
for love divine has come from whence.
Your lips the place in which I fall from grace,
the unseen beauty upon your face,
the tender skin I need to kiss, to bite to taste.
The tender love from there I’ll trace.
Karen Hayward ©2016