Lips ache with a silent longing,
missing the touch of yours,
the way they danced against mine,
a symphony of passion and desire.
I remember the taste of you,
like honey and sunshine,
a sweetness that lingers,
long after you’re gone.
Craving the warmth of your lips,
the way they spoke volumes,
how they answered my question
without saying a word.
In this empty space between us,
my lips search for yours,
reaching out in vain,
grasping at the memories
Waiting to be made.