Your lips were made for mine, Beck. You are the reason I have a mouth, a heart.
love wounds me with soft pillows with tender lips and fingers
Little Richard, he’d say, ‘Oh Dick Dale! You have luscious lips!’
when whisperedwhat an exquisitesong, it makes-your name.
A kiss-goodnight Can last for hoursMoaning into your mouthLicking the sweetnessOf my lipsBiting softlyHolding on To the taste of yoursNever wanting To let goAsking you To kiss me foreverAsking the goodnight-kissTo becomeA kiss-good-morningA kiss-I-love-youAn entwined...
I can read lips. Especially if they have words tattooed on them.
I clung to each word that fell from his lips like a spider to a web.
Pretty girls kissed me on victory day, their lips soft red petals brushing my face.
My lips still quiver when I think about her smile.
Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.
I got a question for you, gonna come over here and kiss me with those pretty lips?
I didn’t form my lips into the shape of a kiss. I was merely about to whistle.