I heard this and felt electric.
I would liken it to the sort of feeling a coffee lover gets once they have their first shot of expresso. Perhaps something more intense- like the synonymous thrill and relief of an addict, when the hit is strong, and the first in a while.
But why? Why should I care? Why should I feel anything?
It is but a phrase, sparse ink on a naked page – I simply heard it, somewhere. Those words did not, in the beginning, resonate with me yet still they were ingested, and began to create whirlpools at the core of my desire stained interior.
I had but a chance to blink, and then, I felt something.
It was this:
There are kisses that wait restlessly on my lips, reserved for you, and only you. And yes, while mine sleep, they dream of lips like yours and savour the flavour of your presence in my life. They revel in all the ribbons of affection I long to drape over you, with love soaked affirmations and fingertips static with desire. There is a restless beating drum in my chest waiting to find a rhythm in yours, and I become dizzy with this influx of tangible, yet indescribable emotion.
My rhythms syncopated with excitement.
I may not have known before, but the truth has pursued me relentlessly.
Indeed, My kisses dream of lips like yours.