Mix (97)

Your lips,

burning heavens;

miss them anyway.

your hugs,

summer vibes;

dressed emotions from that blue light.

your skin,

God’s perfect creation;

I would kill to touch it,

every single night.

your heart,

the Universe itself;

wanna mix it with my own one,

starting today, no ending time.


Writing a poem a day for 1 year. This is lucky number 97. Thanks for reading.