Use Your Lips To Mark Me A Canvas

Doodle, draw pictures, cover me with your words, use your tongue to make me a canvas. Use your lips to draw a world on me, I portray the art of you, and all that you create, what we could create, but your mouth stops there. Drawing the heavens formed in the air, millimeters above my skin. As I gasp, filling the ozone in my bedroom with a haunting ghost; the world your lips make contains no people, just gods and ghosts and worshippers of a dying faith. A faith that lingers in your teeth marks. Bruises left of battlegrounds, but no one fought there, just muscles, saliva, and air, left of an imaginary world in which we live. When your lips trace my ribs, designing crop circles no one else sees, just you and me and a God that we are and love. Fingering the ends of my hair while the other hand guides the would-be moon along my spine. Use your finger tips to leave a milky way of shooting stars upon my back. Blowing tsunamis of smoke rings, hissing animals come out between your teeth. Nip the mountains into hills, lick the valleys into seas. And soon its my turn to make a world of you.