Lips Quotes - Page 2

I was mistaken when I said you live in my heart. How absurd I was when you live in my fingertips so that everything I touch is you. How foolish I was when you live in my toes so that everywhere I go there's you. How senseless of me to say you live in my heart when you breathe in my lungs, walk on my mind, and drink in my mouth. I came to pen another poem for you, but even every unwritten poem is you.

I’m jealous of the cherries that have been in your mouth,” he said, “that they get to make your lips so red.” He kissed her softly, teasing her tongue with his, a lustful wet caress, and Austen was suspended in air. “I’m jealous of every single day before today that I didn’t get to spend with you.

And then in a moment of pure magic, our lips touch tenderly and sensitively!

She was darkness and he was darkness and there had never been anything before this time, only darkness and his lips upon her. She tried to speak and his mouth was over hers again. Suddenly she had a wild thrill such as she had never known; joy, fear, madness, excitement, surrender to arms that were too strong, lips too bruising, fate that moved too fast.

And then there's the sickness I feel from looking at legs I can't touch, or at lips that don't smile at me. Or hips that don't reach for me. And hearts that don't beat for me.

Soul smiles through the lips of a happy face

To become a better you, secure your dreams from the jaws of people who discredit your ambitions.

A New Year has tiptoed in.Let’s go forward to meet it.Let’s welcome the 365 days it brings.Let’s live well with love in our hearts towards God and all people.Let’s walk through it’s corridors with praise songs on our lips.

I will never forget the magic I felt the moment I kissed your lips.

He tangles his hand in my hair, and the other cups my jaw. Although I have this all planned, his lips feel shockingly sweet, swollen and soft, and more like home every time

And yetto wine, to opium even, I preferthe elixir of your lips on which love flaunts itself;and in the wasteland of desireyour eyes afford the wells to slake my thirst.

Mitch's take on humanity had deteriorated to the point where he assumed someone was lying if her lips were moving.

A poetess is not as selfishas you assume.After months of agonising over her marriage of words—the bride—and spaces—the groom,she knows that as soonas she has penned the poem,it’s yours to consume.So, without giving it a think,she blows on the inkand the letters fly awaylike dandelions on a windy day,landing on hands and lips, on hearts and hips.But more often than not,you can easily spotthem trodden and forgotten,becoming sodden and rotten.Yet, she will continue to makewhat’s others to takebecause selfishness is not the mark of a poetess.

I left smiles on your wordless lipsThe night roads- dismal and narrow,dream’s path remains shadowy wideas our lone hearts felt that arrowFrom the Poem 'My Tomorrow

Do not go to my grave. Mary knows, I am not there. Look for me in between pages and on people’s lips.Do not go to my old school. Do not go to my old house —I am not in any of those places. Look for me in your hearts and greet me there.

there have been morningsso quiet and tenderlike a poem, on Thursday's lipsthat I wonderedif I'd been kissed at all...

our feet are grape-squashed in memoriesour skins are still flushedfrom the touch of summer’s lips.

He pulled me closer until his lips breathed me in, until we were sharing one breath.

How can you tell when the devil is lying? His lips are moving.

My lips still quiver when I think about her smile.

when whisperedwhat an exquisitesong, it makes-your name.

Alone, all alone in the world, sad and small like a nightingale serenading the infinite. How could a love so tender and sweet become the cross of my pain? No, no, I can't conceive I won't receive your precious lips again. My eyes are tired of weeping, my heart of beating. If perhaps some crystal moment before dawn or twilight you remember me, bring only a bouquet of tears to lay upon my thirsty grave.

Kiss someone like kissing is the only way you have to communicate. There is no conversation. There is no sex. There are only two sets of lips that are ravenous to be recognized and treasured.

Our lips now conjoin like the glittery coils of a wet snake dancing in the amazon. Kissing Nadia sends me into a savoring affair for that which is most delectable, always tasting the delicate layers that exist in her myriad of emotion. Always, Nadia’s opulent lips gratify and subdue by easing my sensitivity as she drags her fingers down my stomach like a tree scattering its roots. I now brush my lips over Nadia’s, dipping into her mouth like a brush that falls into a bucket of paint, osculating under this euphoric form of affection.

I am sitting here, staring at the dark sky and drunk with memories. laughing like a maniac while crying an ocean. Somewhere it feels like somebody is kissing my lips passionately. While they are continuously pushing a knife, deep into my chest.

Maybe if I stretch my lips, I will remember how to smile.

Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.

The smile upon my lips, 
It will surely never die 
As I'm waiting here for you 
until you're by my side.

Make no mistake about it. We are born blind, deaf, and mute. It is neither these eyes that give us sight, nor these ears that give us sound. It is not even these lips that give us voice. It is only love. Love makes us seek beauty and truth. Love yearns to connect. To experience. To understand. So close your eyes at once. Don’t utter a word. Perk up your ears and listen to that silent sound inside you where all this is found.

If I can’t be your love, then let me be a simple brooch so I may rest a while against your chest. If I can’t be your love, then let me be a forgotten coin so I may rest a while against your thigh. If I can’t be your love, then let me be an unlit cigarette so I may rest a while in between your lips. If I can’t be your love, then let me at least remain in these words so I may rest a while in your thoughts.