Q's Kisses

The memory of her kisses steams my head open
Cracks it like a clam
and my brain is all soft
and vulnerable,
easy to spoon out into a serving dish.

All that is left in my head are stars
and the echoing memories of the sounds she makes
with her head thrown back in lust.

In the big empty bowl
thoughts of her
swirl around,
combine and break apart.
The colors of her desire
are my northern lights.

The feel of her,
shadows in a memory
against my lips.
For a breathless moment.
I feel the juicy press
of her full sweet kiss
and I can’t type anymore.