Truth

My Lips are like metaphors
They change in tempo
Quickening in volume
They sting like Wisabi
and are full of emotions
there full of facts
and glisten like white walls
clear as vodka bottles
They yearn for love
and ache with dryness
  They crack
    They bleed
      They turn from red to pale
My lips want to feel that rejuvenation.
My lips want that soft touch and never separate again.
Don't leave them gasping for more love
Don't leave them for another set of lips and curves
Just don't leave me
Let them pucker
Let them fill
Let them smile
Let them know that you still care
When you hold my face in yours and kiss me goodnight.
or tell me that you love me
Let each moment linger
Don't treat these lips(My)lips as just something to be thrown away
Don't treat them as something to be used.
There not there for your comfort.
There not there just to be there.
These lips(My) lips let me communicate
These lips(My) lips help me breath
These lips(my) lips let me feel
So please In asking you with
these lips(My) lips
       to know
        to feel
         to have passion
           to love
That these lips(My) lips aren't just some other woman's lips
     These lips are My lips
     Not yours,not the mail mans,not the gardeners,not the doctors or nurses,
not the Earths,not the Sky's,not the Valleys,not the mountians  or rivers.
     These lips aren't for just your use.
        These lips are  (My) lips.
And I hold them with pride.

(This is ancient,so feel free to judge :3)