*Please, no one get pissy or uber flattered. Alot of this is just fictional shit that I think of when I'm high.*
I just regarded every lip lock to be a silent gift from him to me. Sometimes I imagined lips having what we wanted to say most written on them and when they'd touch, we could read and tell each other our biggest secrets. Like the electricity generated by two pairs of lips made the messages transferable. At least, that's what I felt like when I was kissing him. I was telling him everything I wanted him to know.
But he never got my message. Maybe he never cared to know.
And basically, I got all of his, even when it sucked to know.
He was the boy with the lips that I so wished to see the words "i love you" printed in them.
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