I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.
Morning light spills through my window, slow and honeyed,
and I drift somewhere between waking and want—
caught in a quiet spell where everything leads back to you.
My thoughts sway like soft music,
a melody only my body seems to hear.
In that dream, my hands find you first—
fingers threading through your hair
like they’ve always known the way.
We hover—
a breath, a heartbeat, a universe apart—
until I close the distance
and time forgets how to move.
Your lips…
warm, yielding—
something to be tasted, not rushed.
I linger there,
like I’m learning a language
I never want to stop speaking.
You fall back into softness,
and I follow—drawn, inevitable,
like gravity was rewritten just for us.
My hands cradle you,
my mouth finding yours again, deeper now—
not desperate,
but certain.
Like this moment was always waiting.
I kiss you
like the world is ending quietly around us,
like you are something sacred
and I am undone in your presence.
And even when I wake—
sunlight still stretching across my skin—
I’m left in that same daze…
tracing every feeling
back to you.
By chase bowman













