Pneumatic Engineer

Your flawed beauty blossomed from my periphery, and all I could articulate is- "Hold my hand." Our fingers now linking like bridges to my next decade, cheek-rivers flowing between two worlds apart, lips like roses stuck sloppily upon each other. I was then mindless and breathless, this Pneumatic Engineer investigating my lips with a tool called 'Tongue', to practice his profession on these air compressor machines that used to be my Lungs. And he'll listen to that wet friction as I form a smile.