“Jameson! I say, you old chap, I haven’t seen you in, what, 15 odd years? Have a scotch with your old buddy.” And he stood above me with his hands out in a hugging motion.
I stared back at him, silent, and he began to look confused. Marcus was one of those privileged Chi Kappa boys, used to beat on us during rush, used to get us bloody. Sure, I’d had a few drinks with him in the past, mostly because of unfortunate proximity, but he wasn’t my kin, my ilk, heck, we didn’t even see eye-to-eye politically.
“I don’t know you,” I finally squeaked out, hands clenched.
“Jameson, it’s me, Marcus. Chi Kappa. We kicked the shit out of London together, didn’t we, old boy?…” Still confused, he motioned towards the cocktail waitress to bring two drinks.
“I don’t know you at all,” I said.
I wake up with chapped lips, skin rough, there’s a tender spot where you bit me the night before. I touch my mouth where the skin is peeling and I try to leave it alone, but I like the feel of the little rough spot on otherwise smooth skin.
Suzy was an avid sled ryder who traveled about in search of the fastest, steepest, longest hill. It’s too bad she that when she was a little girl she got into the habit of licking her lips and chewing on her nails. She did get quite rich famous after the invention of her chapped lip product, bud did eventually get her lips and fingers cut off.
I hate when i have chapped lips. Man, that sucks. I don’t use chap stick so I wait out the month of dry lips. So that’s not really good for girlfriends. Just saying.
Her chapped lips were bugging her. No matter how much lip balm she put on, they did not get healed. She was worried, for she thought she was going to get her first kiss that day, but alas, at the look of her lips, he politely declined.
Jesse leaned into the shade of the Joshua tree. Anything to get some relief from this horrid, dry sun. Her lips and nose were chapped from too many hours lying unconscious in the sun. She wasn’t sure she’d make it. And so, she prayed.
I think about lips. You need some chap-stick. But chap-stick makes your lips slimy. its gross. why do people like it. I don’t. But my lips don’t get chapped.
i hate chapped lips. the scratchy, flaky feeling of no moisture is just appalling. in order to prevent this awful syndrome, i take great care to use plenty of chapstick and keep my lips moisturized.
Licking his very chapped lips, Gregory crouched down beside the frayed wires of the old computer monitor. His fingers twitched as he touched the fiery metal prongs, trying to work meticulously with them as his client watched cautiously from behind him.
“I don’t really know what happened to this,” he muttered, “but it looks bad.”
“How bad?”
Gregory gritted his teeth. “Bad enough to need a new computer monitor?”
my lips were chapped from the cold winter wind hitting them as I walked briskly to school. I licked over them again and again. Today was going to be hard. The cold doesn’t help. It just makes the day ever more depressing. What’s the point of that? Right. There isn’t one.
My lips are so chapped and now I just ate spicy food. Ouch.
don’t lick them it will only make them worse
don’t lick them
don’t lick them
dont lick them
oops
ouch.
the wind blew against her face blowin her hair around violently. al that she really wanted was something to drink something to eat and a face to look into. she lickeed her chapped lips and set her mind into a determined mind set. she couldnt give up now
Please don’t kiss me right now. Oh my god he’s going to kiss me right now. So dry and pale. I need water…or chapstick. I can’t believe I forgot my chapstick. Oh no. He’s thinking about it..I can see it. I’m forever going to be known as iguana lips.
Amy’s lips were chapped.
She stood out on the cold Chicago streets, waiting for a cab to pick her up and take her back home.
“God,” she thought, “There aren’t many people up at 2am, eh?”
She turned around, thinking she heard a noise. She quickly dismissed it and pulled out a stick of lip balm.
“You waiting for someone?” a voice said from behind her.
She turned to see a man with a knife and a wicked smile.
His lips are chapped. I guess it was from all the time he spends with the other girls in the hallways between classes, never seen but always talked about. I don’t care enough to say anything about them as he leans in close enough that I can smell the spearmint of his recently discarded gum, instead I just let my eyes wander from those stupid chapped lips to the bright blue of the windows to his soul. You know, songs always talk about the guys with the blue eyes, and they’re freaking right. And so he laughs and I can still smell the spearmint and so I laugh too and we’re just laughing and then it occurs to me that those lips are chapped from just smiling so wide.
So I lean in and kiss them.
My hands were sweaty, my stomach filled with awful butterflies, and I had to lick my lips often as they would get chapped easily. Not that it mattered because the moment they stepped into the room, alive well and healthy, all those little things that generally would have bothered me, didn’t. I was just happy they were okay, that was all that mattered in that moment.
Ice cream melts and swirls in colorful patterns, chocolate syrup mixes with vanilla, forms spirals and drags the eyes down, down, down, robs the tongue of breath and moisture and everything but a clumsy mess of words.
His lips were chapped from the cold, his small body shivered. Him and his sister were alone in the blizzard. They walked in circles trying to get home. He had to stay strong. Though he was only five, he knew what would happen if they stopped walking, or if they didn’t get to shelter in time. They would freeze. He had to stay strong for his big sister. She would die inside if he died. But he couldn’t take anything more. He dropped to the ground, every part of his body frozen. His sister tried to wake him but to no avail. The next morning, the boy and his sister were found dead, three yards away from their house. The little boy was inside his sister’s arms.
I admit, I took 2 minutes to write this. :| *Embaressed SMile* *An even more embaressd smile because I don’t know how to spell embaressed.*
His lips were chapped and his body empty of liquid. The sun had practically burnt him to a crisp, and there was very little he could do about it. He tried to threaten the sun – did it know who he was? – but it mostly ignored him.
His behavior chapped her hide. The way he decided to move the furniture around in the room made her mad. He made choices without checking with her. She had spent years planning and preparing for this place. Who did he think he was. She was actually attracted the the very thing that made her mad but she was not willing to admit her weakness for this man.
My lips were red, throbbing and bruised from the intensity with which his lips had worked over mine. My breath hitched as his eyes bore into mine, silently telling me that he was far from finished. My lips would be far more chapped than they were now and I could just tell that I wouldn’t regret a single second of it.
The smoke curled away from her chapped lips in a thick cloud of memory. At that moment she was much older than 16. She felt as though time itself was angry with her, and as punishment there she was: 72 in the body of a teenager, struggling to breathe and oh so tired. She wanted nothing more than to sleep…As if sleep would fix her problems. She would wake up in an hour and everything would still be there. All the problems, all the sickness, all the suffering.
My chapped lips stung in the sea breeze. It was difficult to pay attention to anything else with this small problem in the way. It seemed funny really, the world was falling apart around me and all I could think about was that my lips stung. My eyes gazed unseeing at the coast that was drawing quickly away from us, the fires that ranged across its line were worse than any medieval painting of hell.
The walls of the house were chapped. I didn’t know why I was there. My friends entered, and I dindn’t want to stay out of the house alone. We heard a voice and my friends ran away. Now, I was alone inside the house. I was very frightened and I started to shout. One of my friends came to help me and took me outside.
The blue green waters of the ocean rolled over her feet then back out again. The waves rumbled and rolled as white foam tumbled on the tops. The sky was bright not a cloud in it. Such a beautiful day to be on the beach, so much to admire. Yet, all she could think of were her lips were chapped.
In the winter I get really chapped lips. It’s terrible. One time in grade nine my lips were so chapped that the red proceeded up my lip towards my nostrils and it burned constantly. That was the year I learned the importance of having a chapstick. Also, I think I’m going to get fired.
red lips
pain
cold nights
chapstick
lip balm
cracks & redness
winter
wet lips on a windy day
chapped lips
wind
moist lip balm
constant licking
drinking something warm or hot to help chapped lips.
her lips, cracked and peeling
chapped from too much attention of her tongue
too much time under the sun
too many days spent worshiping upon the sandy expanse
pursed in a pout as the boys passed by without even a smile
My lips are chapped and so is my hide. I’ve been out in this wind for 12 hours.
It started as an easy challenge. Take a picture of a cactus blossom. Our own cactus were not yet in bloom, but I was sure that I’d find what I needed at the top of the hill, on the hiking trails at Inks Lake.
“Jameson! I say, you old chap, I haven’t seen you in, what, 15 odd years? Have a scotch with your old buddy.” And he stood above me with his hands out in a hugging motion.
I stared back at him, silent, and he began to look confused. Marcus was one of those privileged Chi Kappa boys, used to beat on us during rush, used to get us bloody. Sure, I’d had a few drinks with him in the past, mostly because of unfortunate proximity, but he wasn’t my kin, my ilk, heck, we didn’t even see eye-to-eye politically.
“I don’t know you,” I finally squeaked out, hands clenched.
“Jameson, it’s me, Marcus. Chi Kappa. We kicked the shit out of London together, didn’t we, old boy?…” Still confused, he motioned towards the cocktail waitress to bring two drinks.
“I don’t know you at all,” I said.
I wake up with chapped lips, skin rough, there’s a tender spot where you bit me the night before. I touch my mouth where the skin is peeling and I try to leave it alone, but I like the feel of the little rough spot on otherwise smooth skin.
My skin is very chapped from those jean shorts!
Suzy was an avid sled ryder who traveled about in search of the fastest, steepest, longest hill. It’s too bad she that when she was a little girl she got into the habit of licking her lips and chewing on her nails. She did get quite rich famous after the invention of her chapped lip product, bud did eventually get her lips and fingers cut off.
I hate when i have chapped lips. Man, that sucks. I don’t use chap stick so I wait out the month of dry lips. So that’s not really good for girlfriends. Just saying.
Her chapped lips were bugging her. No matter how much lip balm she put on, they did not get healed. She was worried, for she thought she was going to get her first kiss that day, but alas, at the look of her lips, he politely declined.
Chapped lips
chap stick
stick stick sticky lips
lick, slick
pick
dead skin
off the lips
using the teeth
fickle cuticles
spike
Blistered. We emphasize one another’s faults as we violently collide. Helplessly we hope. Helplessly we try and disregard the pain.
Jesse leaned into the shade of the Joshua tree. Anything to get some relief from this horrid, dry sun. Her lips and nose were chapped from too many hours lying unconscious in the sun. She wasn’t sure she’d make it. And so, she prayed.
His lips were like sandpaper, cracked like the earth in the midst of a drought. It hurt when he brushed them against my own, a punishment.
“It literally chapped him in hayaff!”
“What? It what?”
“Chapped him! Right in hayaff!”
I let this swirl in my head for a moment, drifting around until it finally connected.
“Oh, it chopped him.”
“S’what I said, innit? Chapped him!”
I never could get hang of that heavy southern twang.
I think about lips. You need some chap-stick. But chap-stick makes your lips slimy. its gross. why do people like it. I don’t. But my lips don’t get chapped.
I have chapped lips. I hate it when this happens. gotta go
i hate chapped lips. the scratchy, flaky feeling of no moisture is just appalling. in order to prevent this awful syndrome, i take great care to use plenty of chapstick and keep my lips moisturized.
Licking his very chapped lips, Gregory crouched down beside the frayed wires of the old computer monitor. His fingers twitched as he touched the fiery metal prongs, trying to work meticulously with them as his client watched cautiously from behind him.
“I don’t really know what happened to this,” he muttered, “but it looks bad.”
“How bad?”
Gregory gritted his teeth. “Bad enough to need a new computer monitor?”
my lips were chapped from the cold winter wind hitting them as I walked briskly to school. I licked over them again and again. Today was going to be hard. The cold doesn’t help. It just makes the day ever more depressing. What’s the point of that? Right. There isn’t one.
As the wind whipped my face, I could feel the sting and ache of my chapped skin. It felt like it would fall off if I didn’t get to lotion soon.
My lips are so chapped and now I just ate spicy food. Ouch.
don’t lick them it will only make them worse
don’t lick them
don’t lick them
dont lick them
oops
ouch.
My lips are always chapped like dry mud from the Dead Sea. Can’t even say I’d use some lipstick as I would look like an old cracked vinyl sofa…
the wind blew against her face blowin her hair around violently. al that she really wanted was something to drink something to eat and a face to look into. she lickeed her chapped lips and set her mind into a determined mind set. she couldnt give up now
Please don’t kiss me right now. Oh my god he’s going to kiss me right now. So dry and pale. I need water…or chapstick. I can’t believe I forgot my chapstick. Oh no. He’s thinking about it..I can see it. I’m forever going to be known as iguana lips.
Amy’s lips were chapped.
She stood out on the cold Chicago streets, waiting for a cab to pick her up and take her back home.
“God,” she thought, “There aren’t many people up at 2am, eh?”
She turned around, thinking she heard a noise. She quickly dismissed it and pulled out a stick of lip balm.
“You waiting for someone?” a voice said from behind her.
She turned to see a man with a knife and a wicked smile.
She was never heard from again.
His lips are chapped. I guess it was from all the time he spends with the other girls in the hallways between classes, never seen but always talked about. I don’t care enough to say anything about them as he leans in close enough that I can smell the spearmint of his recently discarded gum, instead I just let my eyes wander from those stupid chapped lips to the bright blue of the windows to his soul. You know, songs always talk about the guys with the blue eyes, and they’re freaking right. And so he laughs and I can still smell the spearmint and so I laugh too and we’re just laughing and then it occurs to me that those lips are chapped from just smiling so wide.
So I lean in and kiss them.
My hands were sweaty, my stomach filled with awful butterflies, and I had to lick my lips often as they would get chapped easily. Not that it mattered because the moment they stepped into the room, alive well and healthy, all those little things that generally would have bothered me, didn’t. I was just happy they were okay, that was all that mattered in that moment.
Ice cream melts and swirls in colorful patterns, chocolate syrup mixes with vanilla, forms spirals and drags the eyes down, down, down, robs the tongue of breath and moisture and everything but a clumsy mess of words.
His lips were chapped from the cold, his small body shivered. Him and his sister were alone in the blizzard. They walked in circles trying to get home. He had to stay strong. Though he was only five, he knew what would happen if they stopped walking, or if they didn’t get to shelter in time. They would freeze. He had to stay strong for his big sister. She would die inside if he died. But he couldn’t take anything more. He dropped to the ground, every part of his body frozen. His sister tried to wake him but to no avail. The next morning, the boy and his sister were found dead, three yards away from their house. The little boy was inside his sister’s arms.
I admit, I took 2 minutes to write this. :| *Embaressed SMile* *An even more embaressd smile because I don’t know how to spell embaressed.*
His lips were chapped and his body empty of liquid. The sun had practically burnt him to a crisp, and there was very little he could do about it. He tried to threaten the sun – did it know who he was? – but it mostly ignored him.
His behavior chapped her hide. The way he decided to move the furniture around in the room made her mad. He made choices without checking with her. She had spent years planning and preparing for this place. Who did he think he was. She was actually attracted the the very thing that made her mad but she was not willing to admit her weakness for this man.
My lips were red, throbbing and bruised from the intensity with which his lips had worked over mine. My breath hitched as his eyes bore into mine, silently telling me that he was far from finished. My lips would be far more chapped than they were now and I could just tell that I wouldn’t regret a single second of it.
The smoke curled away from her chapped lips in a thick cloud of memory. At that moment she was much older than 16. She felt as though time itself was angry with her, and as punishment there she was: 72 in the body of a teenager, struggling to breathe and oh so tired. She wanted nothing more than to sleep…As if sleep would fix her problems. She would wake up in an hour and everything would still be there. All the problems, all the sickness, all the suffering.
My chapped lips stung in the sea breeze. It was difficult to pay attention to anything else with this small problem in the way. It seemed funny really, the world was falling apart around me and all I could think about was that my lips stung. My eyes gazed unseeing at the coast that was drawing quickly away from us, the fires that ranged across its line were worse than any medieval painting of hell.
My lips are so chapped from all this cold weather.
Kissing you is wonderful, but now my lips are chapped.
The walls of the house were chapped. I didn’t know why I was there. My friends entered, and I dindn’t want to stay out of the house alone. We heard a voice and my friends ran away. Now, I was alone inside the house. I was very frightened and I started to shout. One of my friends came to help me and took me outside.
The blue green waters of the ocean rolled over her feet then back out again. The waves rumbled and rolled as white foam tumbled on the tops. The sky was bright not a cloud in it. Such a beautiful day to be on the beach, so much to admire. Yet, all she could think of were her lips were chapped.
In the winter I get really chapped lips. It’s terrible. One time in grade nine my lips were so chapped that the red proceeded up my lip towards my nostrils and it burned constantly. That was the year I learned the importance of having a chapstick. Also, I think I’m going to get fired.
red lips
pain
cold nights
chapstick
lip balm
cracks & redness
winter
wet lips on a windy day
chapped lips
wind
moist lip balm
constant licking
drinking something warm or hot to help chapped lips.
I get chapped lips a lot.
He kisses her chapped lips as his shirt rips.
her lips, cracked and peeling
chapped from too much attention of her tongue
too much time under the sun
too many days spent worshiping upon the sandy expanse
pursed in a pout as the boys passed by without even a smile
My lips are chapped and so is my hide. I’ve been out in this wind for 12 hours.
It started as an easy challenge. Take a picture of a cactus blossom. Our own cactus were not yet in bloom, but I was sure that I’d find what I needed at the top of the hill, on the hiking trails at Inks Lake.