His Kiss
A Poem of Passion, Love, and Electricity
As I lay beside him, our bodies sinking into the orange cushions of our couch, my mind begins to slip into slumber. My eyes resting shut, I feel a familiar warmth. It isn’t from an embrace, but from his supple lips. Soft, plump, and perfect.
For a moment, my body feels electric. Blood pulsing through my veins from our pressed lips. Suddenly, it’s over. He pulls away from me. My lips feel cold from the loss of his heat.
His Touch
“Don’t go away. Not yet.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
I grab a hold of his hands before he can turn away. His grasp is firm, yet gentle. He slips his arms around me in a passionate embrace. So strong. So warm. Our eyes peering into each other’s souls. He glides his fingers across my cheek, and my lips become warm once again as he presses his passionately into mine.
“Forever isn’t possible.”
“Then let’s break the record of possible.”
About the Creator
Kris Walker
A creative in every form. I have been writing for a decade, and finally, I have come to the realization that it is my path for my future. Whether it be a novelist, journalist, or travel writer, I know I am meant to share my thoughts.
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Prologue
Life. What is it truly? I can’t help but wonder what the point is in living such stresses constantly? Such a heavy question for someone who hasn’t even graduated yet. Prom, finals, graduation — these are the things a normal teenage girl should be worrying about. I guess I pulled the short straw. My last memory of normalcy had to be my 13th birthday.
By Kris Walker6 years ago in Horror
I Blame You, Moon
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By Teresa Rentonabout 13 hours ago in Poets
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