￼ Dripping pink passion Delicate curtains wafting Like parted Spring lips
Midnight. We always met at midnight. Beneath the moon and stars beside the river. Always midnight. We’d kiss by the old bridge like kids, young again. Midnight magic, we called it. Every other hour led to those dark kisses. Every second. But midnight’s gone and I’m alone. I hate midnight.
North wind: a kiss to make your lips blue, the zing of winter upon you, chilled bliss. East wind: an infrequent visitor in shawls of grey, brisk and damp her kiss to each cheek. West wind: ocean’s breath, her kiss the saline stuff of dreams, passionate and strong. South wind: warm and enveloping, an oasis […]
Starburst rouge A blast of passion Dramatic Lover’s kiss No more chill blue sky envies Night’s secret affairs