#kisses

The kiss was flight, the kind of kiss that had magic I hadn’t known existed. Or maybe it was the kind of kiss that I had known long before but had all but forgotten, like the scent of roses once they’re no longer in bloom. ↗

— Ute Carbone

#love #love

He leans down, his dark eyes simmering, and kisses me until neither of us wants to come up for air. Only the ringing of the bell tears us apart. "Damn bell," he says softly. He places his hand along the scar that rides my face from temple to chin. A slash of purple, it's never going to disappear. But it doesn't bother me. ↗

— Elsie Chapman

#kisses #love #west #love

Can I kiss you?” And she would let him, lightly on her lips, a moment of brief anticipation. “Your kisses are like sugar woman.” He would tell her affectionately. “So sweet.” He would close in on her and then ask softly, “Please spend the night with me. ↗

— Keira D. Skye

#couples #kiss #kisses #kissing #love

Hello?” I ask. No one is there. Not a word. Not a whisper. Not a single sound resonating from the other side of the receiver. “Hello? Anyone there?” I ask again. Repeating myself. I am beginning to feel rather anxious now. Scared, would be a better word to use. Shivers have begun to creep up my spinal cord, and I can feel the urgency of goose pimples begin to line up on by frightened pale skin. ↗

— Keira D. Skye

#ghosts #halloween #kill #killing #kisses

There is an awkward silence that overcomes you when cross paths with the person that kisses your heart the second that you meet them. It balances on the edge of unknown but always desired. ↗

— Carl Henegan

#kisses #love #unknown #love

My 10th Sonata is a sonata of insects. Insects are born from the sun... they are the sun's kisses. ↗

— Alexander Scriabin

#insects #kisses #sonata #sun

I will not play tug o' war. I'd rather play hug o' war. Where everyone hugs instead of tugs, Where everyone giggles and rolls on the rug, Where everyone kisses, and everyone grins, and everyone cuddles, and everyone wins. ↗

— Shel Silverstein

#giggles #hug #hugs #i #instead

And at that age, the only boys I didn’t think were gross were dead scientists – and it’s not like I wanted to kiss those guys. (No offense, Niels Bohr.) ↗

— Sarah Cross

#scientists #age

Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you on this earth. Sometimes you catch them. They can be the hands of the people you love. They can be your pets- pups with funny names, cats with ferocious old souls. The thing that keeps you here can be your art. It can be things you have collected and invested with a certain sense of meaning. A flowered, buckled treasure chest of secrets. Shoes that make you taller and, therefore, closer to the heavens. A suit that belonged to your fairy godmother. A dress that makes you feel a little like the Goddess herself. Sometimes you keep falling; you don't catch anything. Sometimes you fall, spinning through space, grasping for the things that keep you here. Sometimes you catch them. Sometimes you don't. Sometimes they catch you. ↗

— Francesca Lia Block

#art

Because she did not look behind, September did not see the smoky-glass casket close itself primly up again. She did not see it bend in half until it cracked, and Death hop up again, quite well, quite awake, and quite small once more. She certainly did not see Death stand on her tiptoes and blow a kiss after her, a kiss that rushed through all the frosted leaves of the autumnal forest, but could not quite catch a child running as fast as she could. As all mothers know, children travel faster than kisses. The speed of kisses is, in fact, what Doctor Fallow would call a cosmic constant. The speed of children has no limits. ↗

— Catherynne M. Valente

#kisses #mothers #death