Dominion of lips

musings and all, :')

Do you know,

Some of the seasons of this earth

Come as invasions by thousand galloping horse heels.

Almost like your apparent succulent lips that outlets

An innate voluptuousness over some sad shoulders

to a saga of printed lip words.

The sound of typing of a typewriter and that of

a horse galloping has similarities, but unlike the

horse's course of journey, the typewriter's final cut

doesn't depend on the last step,

rather the whole set of symbolic footprints on

an easy white cardstock domain.

And also

The sounds of humps on the saggy parts of you

and the asynchronous jerks of mystified moans

from your mouth have nothing in common.

The sounds of humps imitates sounds of typewriters,

out of a fear of spilling too much nectar out of place.

But the music of the moaning is unbound

And feeds only,

Only on the dominion of my invading lips

over the cherry of your breasts.

Author's Note

Just tell me what does this make you feel?