i kissed a different one the other night speckled by the romance of cold rain drops. him, a few inches shorter than me, i kissed him. he fit the moment. He fit all the instant criteria, i kissed him. i'll enjoy the moment. i know he won't last. neither will i. My kisses are meaningful and meaningless at the same time. so am i. i kiss him. i kiss with intent. i kiss with soul. i put my back into it. you want to know what i mean. two pretty in pink, soft, juicy petals sweetly aching for attractive human contact.
i haunt myself.
i'd want to kiss me. and i say that, in the most unconceited way possible.
i am so god damn kissable. i know it. you know it. fuck.
you're cute. let's kiss.
you're smart. let's kiss.
good dancer? let's dance and kiss.
and kiss and kiss and kiss and kiss some more.
i kiss. i kiss. i lick. i kiss. i nibble. i bite. i kiss. i grab the back of your fucking head. i tug you, where i like, with my lips. i whisper some shit you've never heard before in your ear. then i lick it. from the bottom to the top. not in this particular order.
i guess...it's me. kissing is my religion. kissing my sanctuary and conviction...it is with the right person in the right moment.
they think i'm too much.
she doesn't even know me. yet she kisses me this way.
little do they know i'm doing it for me.
truly it's not fucking you. it's fucking me.
so until i meet the right one who enjoys kissing as much as i do...i'll keep doing what i do best....meeting the wrong fucking guy.