Lips

His lips reminded me of tulips, soft and delicate. They were the most beautiful set of lips i'd ever laid my eyes on for he posessed them. I craved his lips, the softness, the way they gently brushed against my skin like a paintbrush, my body a canvas. A canvas waiting for him to paint. A canvas that had his name written all over it as his and only his. A canvas who craved his candy lips. His smile. His presence. His warm breath lingered on my neck long after he leaves. And the scent of his skin dances in my nostrils during the long, dreary nights in which he is absent. My heart and my soul yearn for him. My hands wish to caress him, to love him. To love his lips, his soft lips for which I shall await an eternity for.