art philosophy / words

The most beautiful thing about her wasn’t her soul…

mouthpart

The most beautiful thing about her wasn’t her soul, it was her mouth. And if I’m gonna be really honest it wasn’t really what she was saying that attracted me to her, but the way that she said it. Her voice rang a silver bell inside my cage of ribs that i didnt even know existed.

A surreal surprise. A resonating sensation. Enlightenment. Nirvana. Kurt Cobain.

When she spoke.

Warm nectar drops of sound traveled down my ear canal.  Liquid gold puddled up against my ear drum. It’s one of those things that’s so good it shouldn’t occur, in this life time or then next because we aren’t worthy. Words passing thru her lips just became sweeter. Sweeter in sound. Sweeter in taste.

I’d bet my cat’s ninth life on that statement.
I was jonsing. Jonsing hard for my words to pass thru her sexy mouthpart. I needed them to escape from her tight voice box, shimmy up her long and lovely  vocal cords, loop around her pink tongue, slip passed her lips, and penetrate my audio cortex. AND ring. Ring! RING! that silver bell inside my empty vessel of a being.

Ring it. Again and again.

Because. this.

Is the kind of stimulation

I have been craving.

 

-park

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