lean in to kiss mein all the placeswhere the acheis the most special.

be the kiss in my hairthat no one seesmove, when i movesigh, when i sigh...be that line from a poemthat i hold in my eyes.

love wounds me with soft pillows with tender lips and fingers

in the afterglowof an evening raini lay downin the grass and think of youmy body acheslike an after-kissbreaking in soft firesand wildflowersmy dear, i will always bethis tender for you.

You askif I will write a poemI could,I supposewrite the mostsplendiferousone of allbut notrightnownot whenyour handsare brewingwarmcinnamon teaacross my skinnot when I’mtrying to imaginewhat might happenif you beganfloweringkissesuponmeMy dear,how canI writea poemwhen I’m alreadyinside one?

when I finally begin to driftinto sleepyour memory is the...firstand the moonlightthe last, to kiss my face.

May the nights always be aglowwith the bliss of the daywith unharmed hands and feetand kissed cheeks.

there have been morningsso quiet and tenderlike a poem, on Thursday's lipsthat I wonderedif I'd been kissed at all...

slow down, oh sweet tearsflowing nectar...down my lashes' tipssomedaysomeone will kiss you away,even before you can reach my lips.