I love your kisses.
I could write sonnets about your mouth,
the bow of your lips,
the power of those lips on mine, on my body.
I could write on and on because you have so many different kisses.
You have a hello kiss,
the one you greet me with.
You have a goodbye kiss;
it’s not a real goodbye kiss,
just a “hey, I’ll see you in a few days but I really don’t want to go” kiss.
You have a loving kiss;
I can feel your tenderness,
your affection for me in spades.
I close my eyes as your lips press to my brow or my cheek.
You have a gentleman kiss (I’ve always thought you were one).
With that kiss, I feel like the lady you’ve always said I was.
You kiss my hand or make a gesture that cements what I know about you,
a man of honor to the core.
You have a patient kiss too,
the kind where we feel unhurried.
I could drown in that kiss forever.
It is undemanding, yet still passionate somehow.
Then there is your sexy kiss,
the one that makes me breathless and hungry,
the one that amazes me as my body floods with feelings.
I can never get tired of it and yet it is novel each time,
as if a new facet of our love is added to the passion there.
Your sexy kiss drives me wild;
it makes me feel liberated too.
I can’t name all the kisses in one sitting;
there are too many,
so many to count.
So, I’ll say you bless me with a different kind of kiss every day.
I love you so very much.
And I love all of your kisses too.