Kiss Me Like You Mean It

Assault me with your lips.  It’s the only way I know how to describe the force I want to feel from you as you kiss me.
An onslaught.
An attack.
A blow of fury.
Ride your forces across my lines and invade every corner of my existence.  Don’t stop until your charge breaks through.  Don’t stop until you’ve crushed me into you.

Kiss me.  Love of god, fucking kiss me.  Bite my lips.  Pull.  Tug as if your rancor’s suffered long enough and you’ve needed to unleash a ripping of flesh as if your fangs cannot be satiated.
The balance between heaven and hell in a kiss is awkward.  To miss someone so much you want to hurt them.  To love them so hard you want to die.  To touch your lips to there’s so intensely that the desire to do them harm is only outweighed by that to heal.

A kiss should kill you both and then breathe life back into your lungs.

The heat should not let up, but only build inside the cauldron.  Friction of your tongue to mine, pressed hard like a fist into a fist.  Both sides unrelenting until your head, or mine, moves from one side to the other.  Wildness takes over.  We glide along together and our tongues dance.  Only the instinct of survival, to breathe, allows us to unlock our spiral.

Panting breaths.
Heaving chests.
Wanton eyes.

The magnitude of our ferocity will spark a fire.  The fire will burn between us only until we’ve extinguished it with our lips.  Nothing else can stop the ache in our bones but each other.

Kiss me and don’t ever stop.
Kiss me like this every time, as if you’ll never kiss me again.
Kiss me as if all your plans are cancelled.
Kiss me as if your eyes only shine against mine.
Kiss me forever and I’ll love you just as long.


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