Perfect Lips He never could look anyone in the eye. Especially not women. He looked at their lips instead. He knew a person by their lips, memorizing their shape and pigment. The little lines. The way they moved and how the corners stretched when the owner spoke. He was no artist, but he kept a notebook. Its pages drawn gently upon with soft graphite. Dates were next to each pair. Names if he knew them. For him, mouths told more about a person than eyes could. Nerves and retinas. Irises and lenses. They could not make polite conversation. Could not smile or frown. Could not yell and tell lies. Could not spit and hate or love. Could not press to other lips and make one's head feel dizzy.More Like This
Lips told stories, but not just with words. Stories about the person. Thin, small lips tinted pink from youth. Chapped lips bleeding from being bitten. Lips adorned with silver rings. Lips pulled into the mouth from wrinkles, corners tugged downward with age and knowledge of the world.
Girls had prett