The Truth About Her Lips

by Lisa Martinovic

She is all lips—nothing more
All that matters are her lips
no Cleopatra eyes, Barbie nose no
long dangly Buddha ears
She is all lips pink and brimming
Every sense worth indulging
coming to or
tumbling from those lips lips lips

She is all lips full, fleshy
pulpy peaches halved
fresh fallen from the tree—ripe
sugar-laden luscious lightly scented
redolent of promise flashing
nature’s opulence

She is all lips no pits
magenta centers rough
bruised berries,tart as cherries
plump and primed her
reckless excess beckons him
daring him to come inside
those lips lips lips

Her lips exist for pleasure
nothing more
seeking sin and sensation
tactile tantilization
when she’s touching
tasting, teasing
kissing here
licking there and
sucking up
the thrill it is just living in those lips lips lips

Talking is extraneous
food is superfluous
singing is melodious but
passion is the purpose of those lips
without a conscience so that
when she’s had her fill of him
she’ll lure another lover to her lips lips lips

but not—yet
first she’ll have his cream

He is all cream—nothing more
All that matters is his cream
Rich and languid
warm as blood that pumps her veins
dense as sap that climbs her tree
He is cream thick and heavy
heart-stopping valve-clogging
unapologetic full-fat
fresh-drawn from swollen udders
cream cream cream
He is cream sweet as wild
flower fields honey
bees humming summer creeeeeeeeam
Creamy as the kitchen slab of butter
he could be
but he’s not he’s
all lush liquid yearning
to be whipped
stiff when he descends upon her lips lips lips

He’s pouring slowly
lingers silky on her softly throbbing flesh
He is wet, she is thirsty
They are merging, undulating
rapidly tumescing in a
slow drizzle dripping
down her trembling chin chin chin
Milky trail trickles
snaking south
soaking in the succulence of
sweat-slick cleavage
rippling over nipples sharp as glass

They’re a painting
Cezanne blending
muted shades of rouge et blanc
poppy red bleached bone
undertones they mooooan
her lips awash in cream cream cream
spilling flooding filling
every mile of those lips
until his tidal wave a’surging
sends her epic RedSea parting
falling open, aching to receive his —
cream enters flowing fluid drenching
wrapping round her tongue
he is gliding
slipping sliding down her throat
arched neck pulling deep
he is swimming
no, he’s drowning in the
roiling riptide of her lips
ahhh! ahhh! ahhh! ahhh! ahhhhhhh!

ebb and flow
her tsunami
sucks him down
swallows long and
with a quick lick lick lick
of those lavish lips
she is sated he is gone
on the altar
of her legendary lips lips lips lips lips