My kind of lips

It was afterwards, upon the very first time my lips met yours,
and now they full of desperation, lonely, sad, anxiously mourning
for more, that one hopeful chance encounter, this impulsive
yearning for another round, my protesting lips missing
yours more each day, as if under some form of stress,
dealing with lingering memories all the time, those warm
summer sunsets, pouting foolishly in absence of your once
warm mouth keeping mine busy, waiting for the sun to go down
like before, least concern about those lovely rich coffee brown eyes,
or the smell of your wonderful perfume, but rather left achingly
haunted in wanting to eagerly embrace those sugary lips, oh, what
a prize, a blissful moment, two lips once gazing happily in reunion,
like smiling eyes but now in search for those ruby lips having said
farewell to this one fabulous love affair while romantically parted
separate ways long ago, how unfair to keep these two lips so far
apart yet still in love.

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Love and the energy it requires