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SorceressJ -> RE: Do you kiss your property? (8/31/2010 4:40:14 PM)
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Because I really like this thread, I have copied from my journals the following (though I am not the author):
A Thousand Kisses (in words)
by D'jaevle
I am going to write you out in a thousand words.
A word for each kiss. A kiss in each word.
The first will be soft,
the sort of kiss that is intimate and deceptively gentle.
The kind of kiss that leads into another, and another, until you are lost.
The next will be brazen, a kiss that dares to enjoy you;
a kiss without inhibitions or lines; a kiss that reverberates within
until your insides are molten and liquid quicksilver appetite.
A kiss that quiets you. A broken conversation in bites and nips.
My kisses are solvent, seductive in series.
My kisses are an aphrodisiac for life.
These are the imagined kisses born in daydreams
and nighttime prayers.
Extravagance of mind made real in a kiss.
Needful kisses meant to complete, meant to assure,
meant to bestow peace of mind; a kiss as proof (but kisses can lie).
I write of hungry unresolved kisses that never end.
Here, now - a kiss that is a whisper along your skin that tickles
and provokes; it divulges secrets.
It discloses the truth amid the lies;
it murmurs things you already know but fear to admit.
It leads you down a path in golden chains.
I have memories of a kiss, the right kind of kiss,
etched in a single moment and echoed in every recreation since.
A kiss to know, to perceive the truth in engagement.
Understanding in the learning, belief in the patience.
I kiss where I want.
My kisses are a crisis of ambition,
a craving not quite satisfied in the act.
Destiny in the progression,
I lay them out against your skin like prophecy.
I want you under me, covering your lips, nose, and eyes with kisses.
I want you on top, each kiss stolen between the weaving and bucking
of bodies in motion.
Forever in a kiss.
A kiss to catch you, a kiss to be caught.
This kiss is a song, sung between each heartbeat.
Salvation in a kiss; absolved and awakened.
A purity of spirit, clarity in the presence of a kiss that has meaning,
that provides context.
Fucking in a kiss, speaking a language subliminal and instinctive.
A frenzied extension of limbs, a rolling of bodies and tongues,
a shared feast of bared skin and borrowed sentiment.
Possession in a kiss;
a claim made against your breasts, belly, and thighs.
Kisses that are hot enough to brand your skin.
Kisses that are reminders of your place.
Orchestration of nerve endings that begins and ends with a kiss.
Perhaps a kiss between the lines, if you know what I mean.
A mistaken kiss, taken unwittingly and all the sweeter for it.
This kiss tells a story. Denial and determination.
There is love here, yes, and plenty of lust as well. A bit of pathos, and the theme is easy to taste.
It has a clear beginning, a slow middle, and a surprise twist at the end where the kiss is revealed to be not just a kiss, but a poetic statement on state of human indulgence brought to a climax in the visage of an orgy, raw and decadently described.
The story ends abruptly, leaving you wanting more.
Underneath and below, kisses that exist in the lines
drawn from the small of your back,
across curves that begin and end in a parting.
A kiss between friends, is a friendly kiss (isn’t it?)
Some kisses are silent, and some cry out.
Some are breathless and some are nothing but air,
a kiss felt more in the presence than in the touch.
A kiss by the car, a kiss against the door, and a kiss atop the bed.
On the couch, a kiss, and once more on the floor.
Silver kisses painted on your thighs.
Candy kisses melting on your tongue.
A kiss goodnight, a kiss to awake.
A kiss to say goodbye, another to say hello.
A kiss of remembrance, a kiss to forget.
One to break a vow, another to make a promise.
A kiss to betray and another to forgive.
There are kisses in rain and trails of kisses.
There are packs of kisses, litters of kisses, gaggles of kisses.
A kiss that starts at your wrist; a play of moistened lips that cool the skin and find the pulse.
The smooth skin of your arm a pathway to your elbow,
elegantly bent so that the next is nestled along the inside.
To the shoulder, a kiss more teeth then lips,
little burning reminders left on the way to your neck.
The throat is a sculpture of ingress, a place of worship and potential, a way within.
A kiss is dangerous here, it knows you well. Delicate in its tease, deliberate in its patience.
Small, moist, and searing against the curve between shoulder and neck;
expansive and distracting along the side; soft as the lure when felt just below your ear.
A fancy kiss, crafted choreography in form - a kiss with intentions.
A simple kiss, a kiss with a statement.
Kisses that taste of tears.
Dreamt kisses, feathery light kisses that slip away
in wisps of consciousness.
Scarred kisses, tentative and fearful.
Vulnerability in trembling anticipation. Culpability in the acceptance.
A delicate negotiation of faith.
An affectionate kiss. A familiar kiss. A naughty kiss.
Angry kisses; frenzied frustration both nakedly unapologetic
and perverse in its course; a clash in tongues and wit,
opposing manner explained in a long hard fuck against the wall.
I kiss you with my fingers, wet from us.
Kisses that question; kisses that ask again and again,
always the same question, always wanting the same answer,
but louder, louder, LOUDER.
A kiss that isn’t a kiss.
A kiss that is parted lips and torturously sweet in tongues and teeth
but is found not on your lips or your skin.
This kiss is felt inside. This kiss opens you.
This kiss tests your resolve.
This kiss is enough to bring you to your knees.
This kiss is an invitation.
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