My Lips

They don’t feel the same, these lips
Though I know they have not changed.
But they have been altered, shifted
Molded to a new mouth, a new taste, a new touch.

These lips, my lips, have touched his lips.
Soft, tender, exploring, wondering, hard.
The touch pulled on my heart and the
String from my lips to my feet vibrated
Sending shivers through my toes and my knees and my mouth.

The one kiss, became two and then three
And the pressure everywhere boils
I wanted to sigh and scream and ask for more.
And yet, without a word, his lips came back, asking me for my more.

Then his hands entered the picture.
And, oh my! So did his luscious tongue.
And the front of his body against mine.
And that string pulled tight
And the warmth, at first gentle, began to boil.

He stepped away and I almost fell.
Something had happened – unexpected.
His lips, my lips, new lips, lovely wild lips.
And as he helped me to my car, he pulled me back
To his lips, on fire, wanting yet more
From my lips, these new lips ready, hungry for his more.


This is one of my original poems written for the passionate and the adventurous.

For more poetry, check out Sacred Hot Poetry.