It's futile to like an 'idea' and let your mind define what beckons you. The body knows what it needs to rise to it's peak, the eyes though not reliable on the first try do find the eventual outline, so the fingertips can trace those lips, amplifying the burst of chemicals released from the first kiss.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Dear Rhon, Nice thoughts. I liked it and loved it. Thanks!