03 | her lips

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You tell me, "Its just − my lips are too large, but when it comes to white women with large lips they're called luscious."

I tell you, "Oh don't you mind, your lips lead me to my own state of utopia."

⠀Your lips are in fact wondrous, distracting even. I rather enjoy listening in as you speak passionately on black related issues. I enjoy hearing you rant on important matters.

Racism. The lgbt community. Mental illnesses. Women's rights. Women empowerment. Body shaming. Slut shaming. Politics. Every issue known to present day.

I enjoy the sight of your lips moving as you speak your creative mind.

"Am I being too loud? Or too angry?" You ask me, shrinking away from my relaxed position.

That's what they tell you? You're too loud? Too angry? Well they're wrong. I pulled you closer and tucked your head underneath my chin. We laid sprawled out on our bed. You talked. I listened.

"Don't stop talking," I whisper.

You twist up to look at me. You smile, but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"I was done talking anyways," you shake your head.

You were never good at lying. I tilted up your chin. I traced the folds of your tinted lips with my thumb.

"The more you talk, the more I want to learn. The more you talk, the more I want to understand. The more you talk, the more I want to listen. The more you talk, the more I want to kiss your precious soft lips."

"Don't look at my lips!" You shriek and pull your face from my hand.

I chuckle sadly, not happily, sadly, because I didn't want you to say that. I didn't want you to shy away from me.

"How could I not? Your lips are just as alluring as the words you speak."

You look up at me and sigh. I send you a goofy grin.

"Don't say that," you scold.

I frowned. I decided that I didn't want to listen to you anymore. I didn't want to listen to your words of denial. I would rather listen to the racing of your heart as I kiss your lovely lips.

So, I inched myself closer to you and did just that.

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