𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠.

TONGUE.          a tricky part.     seemingly built for one purpose, but capable of so much more.     it’s not just pure lust or gluttonous intentions that define the tongue, but joyous laughter that rolls off, catching a snowflake, talking so fast you can barely keep up.     sometimes you can get carried away, lost to the flavours & sensations of new, always itching to try more, & sometimes you forget when to hold yourself back & restrain your eagerness.     the tongue is passion, of every good & negative connotation implicit in that, exemplified.     in their kiss, you can taste revolution.     chase it, lose yourself to the sensations & wallow in it until everything else can fade away to nothing.     it’s the one luxury you can allow for yourself, after all that you’ve endured.     stop biting down, be free.

ON YOUR TONGUE.          your love is language.     it's the way you say goodbye, good morning, how was your day ?? .     love for you is less something to talk about & more something that weaves itself into your speech without permission   ( &, of course, with it ) .     love comes out of you everyday in the easiest way to understand  ;     what's the point of feeling it if you don't say it ??     sing it ??     scream it ??     it bubbles up & spills over anyway.