Press your lips against my palms and let me explore your lips the way my fingertips explore the world. Be they warm and full or chapped from winter's bite, press them against the heel of my palm and knuckles and wrist and nip at the plumbing of my heart. Kisses and nibbles and shallow breaths against my slightly calloused skin, trace the tip of your tongue across my palm and read me my fortune, for surely only magic can happen now that I've found you. And after you've wrapped those lips around each of my fingertips and sucked every coherent thought from my being, let me run my newly anointed hand across your cheekbone and shoulder-blades and let them explore your every edge and curve. Squeeze my fingers in your sweaty palms and hold me tight. Don't let me go. And when the time comes, I promise to explore you with all the care and caution and painful slowness that I'd explored the rest of your body. I promise to make your spine arch, your toes curl and your teeth chew against those chapped or full or warm lips of yours until we're together in a way we'll share until our dying day.