Girls pov:
He kissed me like he knew me all his life. Like he knew how every part of me operated, where to touch, in order for me to melt like butter in the sun. He was the sun. And I was gonna fall so far, I knew that. Even if that meant getting burnt in the end.
Boys pov:
She tasted like cotton candy and sweat. Her hands touched me like I was a sculpture and she was the artist, going over every single deatail, making me tingle in places I didnt know could feel so much, like my cheeks, or my shoulders, or my hands. Every part was art to her, and every touch from her was like heaven.
YOU ARE READING
Ne Decorem
Poetry"Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice?" - Virginia Woolf
