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Daily Deviation
April 29, 2005
Eight Kisses by ~boundlessgravity
I haven't read a piece that moved me like this in a long, long time. All I can do now is dream about kissing...
I haven't read a piece that moved me like this in a long, long time. All I can do now is dream about kissing...
Featured by ndifference
Suggested by zebrazebrazebra
Literature Text
Eight Kisses
One
You can call
it emptiness, breath, epithet, or oblivion
or love, or the thing we can't
touch, while in motion.
The rush
of your mouth in me like icemelt water,
innocent, surging
like a creek,
touching,
stopped.
Second Kiss
I'd like to eat sunlight like an orange,
and let lighty juices run down my jaw
and neck and chest like afternoon rivers.
I may burn my lips, but that is nothing
to the sweet, resinous heat of summer
roving over your body like a golden hand.
Third Kiss
And we're shine-lit
on the hillside in
the only star.
Fourth Kiss
The soul has no glimmer,
even in this midday sun, and still,
like a spring I would raise it always to drink
from the flowering well of your mouth.
Five
Sixth Kiss
Fishing a line made of average brushes,
casting for angels in the glen of your mouth.
I spied them sleeping on your neck,
watched them rise and fall, white thoughts spinning
from a dandelion in low summer, endured
a lure made of quiet to gather them
as if by wild magic.
The cousined string stretched itself like a lover's hair
across the shoal of your coral shoulder,
the indefinacy of your collar’s gentle hollow and
the enzyme cast.. .
I am slipping the fingers of angels between my lips
making them lazy with pleasing
then I eat their gauzy wings;
they disappear like spun sugar
in the heat of your mouth.
Seventh Kiss
Am I trying to write durable journals,
words that will weather or remain intact?
More, I'm trying to scribe myself
in the pond of your soul,
moving my hand, writing my name
as a man in your water.
How can I separate the narrow sweeps
of your body from your strangeness, highway light?
True, your body is only the first reflection.
Everything holds your aspect, love.
Movement in good hope,
cover me all like the infused honey sun.
Eighth Kiss
We left the blinds up last night
To watch the snow and lightning,
While the storm of your body
Pressed its anger against my sea,
Your rain greenly beating my ocean,
Useless, useless.
This fine morning you're happy'go'lucky,
Idle lioness, indolent, golden and lazy
And making dream'sound in the erotic
Deep beneath your yielded lips.
One
You can call
it emptiness, breath, epithet, or oblivion
or love, or the thing we can't
touch, while in motion.
The rush
of your mouth in me like icemelt water,
innocent, surging
like a creek,
touching,
stopped.
Second Kiss
I'd like to eat sunlight like an orange,
and let lighty juices run down my jaw
and neck and chest like afternoon rivers.
I may burn my lips, but that is nothing
to the sweet, resinous heat of summer
roving over your body like a golden hand.
Third Kiss
And we're shine-lit
on the hillside in
the only star.
Fourth Kiss
The soul has no glimmer,
even in this midday sun, and still,
like a spring I would raise it always to drink
from the flowering well of your mouth.
Five
Sixth Kiss
Fishing a line made of average brushes,
casting for angels in the glen of your mouth.
I spied them sleeping on your neck,
watched them rise and fall, white thoughts spinning
from a dandelion in low summer, endured
a lure made of quiet to gather them
as if by wild magic.
The cousined string stretched itself like a lover's hair
across the shoal of your coral shoulder,
the indefinacy of your collar’s gentle hollow and
the enzyme cast.. .
I am slipping the fingers of angels between my lips
making them lazy with pleasing
then I eat their gauzy wings;
they disappear like spun sugar
in the heat of your mouth.
Seventh Kiss
Am I trying to write durable journals,
words that will weather or remain intact?
More, I'm trying to scribe myself
in the pond of your soul,
moving my hand, writing my name
as a man in your water.
How can I separate the narrow sweeps
of your body from your strangeness, highway light?
True, your body is only the first reflection.
Everything holds your aspect, love.
Movement in good hope,
cover me all like the infused honey sun.
Eighth Kiss
We left the blinds up last night
To watch the snow and lightning,
While the storm of your body
Pressed its anger against my sea,
Your rain greenly beating my ocean,
Useless, useless.
This fine morning you're happy'go'lucky,
Idle lioness, indolent, golden and lazy
And making dream'sound in the erotic
Deep beneath your yielded lips.
Literature
My First Kiss
The moment was awkward and all was still
One moment we were laughing and then silence prevailed.
Our eyes met but I grew afraid
Quickly I blushed and looked the other way.
But he just smiled at me and took my hand
Sometimes I just hate it when he always understands.
And even more when he tucks my hair behind my ear.
He looks at me like that and logic just disappears
I get weak in the knees, my hands start to shake
Has anyone ever compared love to an earthquake?
If not, I would have to say thats how it makes me feel
I have to sit down or I cannot deal
And he just laughs at me as he sets me down
Safely, I si
Literature
Seven Reasons Why I Loved You.
i.
seven hours
are spent waxing lyrical and
kissing your eyelashes in the library,
studying.
you mouth the third knuckle on my right hand,
and memorize the hollow of my cheek.
ii.
tender kisses press like
afterthoughts and postscripts on my forehead:
p.s. te quiero.
iii.
you inhale so beautifully.
iv.
i will remember your iceberg-words.
the door slams with
a crash,
like a glacier being born.
Literature
Love Is..
Some say love is overrated.
Some say love is everything, and they couldnt bear to be apart from that special someone for more than a few hours.
Some treat love as a game, untrusting and manipulative.
And with all this speculation, you wonder how many people really understand the meaning of love. So many people try to think of ways of saying it, to make it mean so much more; some say it just because they are words of flattery because it is what the other person wants to hear. The truth is, love is so much more than just words. Love is expressions, touches, experiences. Love is growing together as one. When you find that person
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Draft update 5.06.05
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