It is disgustingly disturbing the way lips forget. What they have kissed, become not sacred but obliterated and the taste of desire lingers like a gnawing hunger, biting into the secrets of night.
How many days must traverse one calendar before, feelings speak their truth. Before moons ripen bright in night skies for lovers to swoon over, with future promise.
The blue moons, the black moons, the super moons, all with their lights of varing orb. When is a kiss sealed, to tomorrow, still lingering in the now
© gillena cox 2026
BLOG HOPPING TODAY WITH
Challenge: To use the line "Lips forget what they have kissed"
