Lips Poems Novels & Stories

His lips, light reddish in color and his lower lip was fuller than the upper one. Remembering how it feels on my lips whenever he kisses me, I was suddenly overcome with the desire to kiss him. I slowly got up and leaned closer to him. It’s just a peck, he won’t know, no one would know. Brushing my lips on his lightly, I withdrew to know if he was waking up. He wasn’t and so I tried again, but this time, I let my lips rest longer on his. I ran my tongue on his lips gently, loving the softness of it.

The air between us sparkled with dew. Every felt like a prayer . “Let it.” For the first time, he didn't retreat. He didn't vanish into mist. He didn't warn me away. He simply looked at me like he had been waiting centuries for this moment. I lifted my hand, touching his jaw gently. “Morpheus,” I said, voice trembling with something brave and foolish, “if you want me… prove it.” He froze. I leaned in , lips brushing the faintest edge of his . Morpheus pulled me in—not forcefully, but with a desperate, reverent certainty—and his lips crashed onto mine in a kiss that tasted like cold water and burning fire meeting for the first time. The mist around us whirled violently. The pond rippled. And

My eyes travelled down to her marvellous plump lips, that are begging me to have a taste with which each taste changes every bit of my mentality. The taste of her lips is unique that I can't get it from any woman, and most of all - it intoxicate me to devour her lips more until it turns pink. She remain still with her body leaning on me, her glassy ocean blue eyes continue staring at mine. Calling her beautiful is an understatement as words can't express how pretty the Moon Gooddess created her, she could be mistaken for an expensive ornament. Maybe it is the effect of her lips that I have once tasted that is working right now.

Even if you ask nothing I'll give you everything; my life, my dream, and my whole heart. I am not the one who'll make your heart skip a beat. I know. I am not the reason for your smile. One thing, I am assured at least; I am not the reason for your tears. If you were in pain; hatred and in need of someone. In love and needs accompany, Can I be that person? from your beautiful wooer. I put on lipstick before kissing the paper to remind him how kissable my lips are. I didn't know I had a knock in writing poems. What a lucky old bastard, he was the first one I tried something like this.

Heartbreak, or the depression that she hid from all those around her so well. His eyes moved to her lips as she whispered his name, Her lips were a pale pink that reminded him of a rosebud. The top lip was thinner, but not too thin, and it had a natural cupid's bow; the bottom one was larger and plusher. The memory of her biting her pencil in concentration, drinking from her mug, or when she applied lip balm to keep them soft flashed in front of his eyes. He couldn’t control himself as his drunken self didn’t know what he was doing.

His lips, light reddish in color and his lower lip was fuller than the upper one. Remembering how it feels on my lips whenever he kisses me, I was suddenly overcome with the desire to kiss him. I slowly got up and leaned closer to him. It’s just a peck, he won’t know, no one would know. Brushing my lips on his lightly, I withdrew to know if he was waking up. He wasn’t and so I tried again, but this time, I let my lips rest longer on his. I ran my tongue on his lips gently, loving the softness of it.

A soft moan escapes her lips when I nibble on her lower lip. We devour each other’s lips with hunger. The kiss sparks a euphoric feeling within us, merging our souls and reviving every fibre of our being. As we pull away, we both take a moment to catch our breath, our eyes still locked in a loving gaze. “Your lips are my addiction, love.” I breathe on her lips, sending shivers down her spine. Throughout the day, we spend precious moments on the beach, enjoying each other’s company. As night falls, we walk along the shore, facing each other, and I lost myself once again in her captivating blue eyes. Her gentle smile warms my heart from within.

The air that passes between our broken kiss a reminder that I don’t have those plump lips on mine. Roxy licks her lower lip; my eyes travel her tongue drinking in every movement. She presses a finger to her swollen lips. “That, er, that wasn’t meant to happen,” she tells me lowering her eyes. I see how her long, dark lashes flutter to her radiant cheeks.

He lift my chin up with a single finger, and smash his lips on mine. For someone like him, I would expect his lips to be hard and dry, but man! his lips soft and tender as a feather. His lips moves expertly bitting and sucking on mine, he has to be an expert, who knows how many women he has being with. That disheartening thought left my head as quickly as it came when he shove his tongue down my throat, exploring every bit of my mouth.

I can almost feel the gentle stubble beneath my fingertips as I paint, memories of his kisses lingering on my lips. His lips, once curved into a smile that could light up the darkest room, are now still. With a hint of sadness, I recreate their shape, adding shades of pink to portray their warmth and sweetness. I long for the day they will part, whispering words of love to me once again.