For if I have a weakness, it's intelligence and touch.
The quiet touch that spoke by itself.
The twirling of fingers, stretching them apart, pinky to pinky. The kiss to the hands.
Rolling the hands to the stomach. A kiss to top it all of.
It's like having ice cream. The chills that ran down your spine even before you have a taste of it. The excitement in your heart. And when you have it, it melts your every desire.
And a good dessert lingers in one's mind. Be it ice cream with chocolate brownie or creme brûlée. It plays on and on and your yearning for it keeps returning.
A touch and a kiss at a spot, no one else knew, that melts me...
The quiet touch that spoke by itself.
The twirling of fingers, stretching them apart, pinky to pinky. The kiss to the hands.
Rolling the hands to the stomach. A kiss to top it all of.
It's like having ice cream. The chills that ran down your spine even before you have a taste of it. The excitement in your heart. And when you have it, it melts your every desire.
And a good dessert lingers in one's mind. Be it ice cream with chocolate brownie or creme brûlée. It plays on and on and your yearning for it keeps returning.
A touch and a kiss at a spot, no one else knew, that melts me...
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