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.