My lips are bruised by your collar bones. There’s just something I find so beautiful about the shallow dip of your clavicle- something so beautiful and alluring that I can’t help but lay my mouth upon it. I half-expect it to cup a teaspoon of honey and ambrosia that will heal me from the inside; your skin tastes like it. The gods blessed your skin with golden warmth and a soft complexion to match. The angles of your throat alone make my mouth water. So one can only imagine what the rest of your body does to me.
— April 7th, 2014, 12:11 a.m. (x)