Do I deceive?

I love your skins texture, smooth or wrinkled, in youth or in age. The softness that envelops your body's entirety, the softness the gods would trade their omnipotence for, the softness the finest clothes made from the finest materials sewn together with the finest threads pale miserably with, against your softness. The softness only a woman could create and only a woman own. Do I deceive believing your lesbian skin the softest of all?

I love your hair. Hair hanging down the whole of your back, inches from your butt, hair at your shoulders coiffed just so, hair short with spikes or close cropped to your pretty head, white. Hair with bangs, hair without, blonde hair, blue, red, black, green or pink. I love your hair. Do I deceive believing your lesbian hair the most perfect of all?

I love your mouth, whether covered in pinks or reds or plain, I love your mouth. Your bottom heavy lower lip, the lip you bite when nervous or in anticipation of my lips or hands, the lips that kiss away fevers, the lips making me believe, the lips that quiver when you're hurt, pouty lips, large lips, small or thin, lips that mumble my name in the dark, lips murmuring I love you, the lips that give the loveliest gift of all. The same gift my lips give back to you, a together gift, a lesbian gift only lesbians know. After your lips have teased and tasted the crux of my being and my lips have sampled and savored yours, we kiss giving each of us back to each other in mouthfuls. Only you give me, me. Do I deceive your lesbians lips hold me on their shores?


My mother may have given me life, but your lesbian lips give me in returns, the gift of me.


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