From the womb
of bliss
the gentle lips
were born -
generous unions;
paired magics;
magnets
for their own
ripe kind.

Summoned
to populate the senses,
lips
wander the world:
clandestine lips
take counsel in stairwells,
in secluded corners,
on pillows, on beaches,
some meet
in hotels
in the shadows
of an infinite taboo;
lips meet, holding congress
in the giant light of day,
trading secrets;
frenzied;
breaking the bread
of each trembling moment -
carefree,
untamed.

Closing eyes
with the seal
of an unexpected thunder,
urging the hands to
take voyage,
naked lips run
blazing
through the wild lands
of the body,
climbing its summits,
entering its valleys,
navigating its curves,
casting fevers and
lightning and
endless
hallelujahs -
lips:
fearless pilgrims,
twin emissaries
of the enigmatic kiss,
living wish,
come to me,
introduce yourselves,
it is my will
to surrender.
— Jé Maverick
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