I trace my lips thinking what it would be like for yours to press against mine,
To be of one breath, one mind, one body, one soul, 
if only for a moment, to feel your warmth, your desire, unashamed,

I trace my lips and feel the soft velvety wetness 
As I salivate thinking of the taste of your tongue,
My lips parting, humbly submitting
As your pink flesh gently caresses mine,
I fear no danger, not from you, 
Nor the bacteria that resides in your mouth,
Some things are worth the risk,
You are, love is, the kind of love I want is,

I trace my lips sucking the tip of my finger, 
Imagining it is your fat bottom lip,
Not wanting your kiss to end even in my imagination,
I imagine pulling you in close to me, kissing you harder,
Getting lost in your mouth and high off your pheromones,

I trace my lips feeling silly,
We haven’t even touched,
No love nor feelings declared,
Only the lust of long haughty stares,
As my red lips draw your eyes and drop your jaw,
bouncing from my breasts to my lips to my eyes and back to my lips,
A gasp comes out in the moment, and a sigh comes out later, 
As I trace my fingers thinking of your lips pressed against my ear,
You wooing me in your native tongue, 
Though I don’t speak it, I understand your meaning,
I understand the meaning of your lips pressed against mine,

I trace my lips for albeit the ghost like residue of lust 
and love commingling on my skin, yours and mine, 
For now, a trace of you will have to satiate my appetite 
For the lips of a man not yet mine,
Not owned by me but bravely surrendered, 
I wait for your gallant surrender, 
as you wait for my supple permission,
My fingers leave my lips, and they trace my heart 
until the day your fingers can trace my body, 
and your lips can find mine without a trace

~ By Hyacinth Hale