I bite the inside of my cheek as you walk away. Do I call out? Say I’m sorry, beg forgiveness? Or do I turn my back and forget… I stand and watch you walk, unable to speak a word.
Her cheek had dried blood on it. I tried to brush it off, but she backed up. “No. Don’t touch me again.” And with that, she left, leaving me with my broken heart.
they danced cheek to cheek, his on hers. They used to dance together every friday night, used to kiss when nobody was looking, hid their hands behind them, stole glances occasionally. It was old now. It was old and they had nothing left to say.
well I already did a thing for this. cuz I stumbled upon it. but then to save it I had to register and so now I’m back to this word. is it only one word a day? weird. I want multiple words. TONS OF WORDS. words, everywhere.
Uh, I guess it’s a word about either cockiness or your face. It’s making me think of my girlfriend for whatever reason. =/ I miss her lots…. She’s really awesome.
It came so close. The inevitable halt to the night. Our last night together, before we separate; you to the Mideast, myself to the South. No matter how much I held it in, there was this irrevocable sought for our time to be extended. And then for our last kiss, I felt two imprints on my cheek, then, “I’ll see you soon”
He slapped me in the face. “What the hell was that for?” I bursted. Usually, I wouldn’t be able to say anything. I would normally stay quiet and cry silently after he left. But the one good thing he had ever done for me was give me courage. “You dumb bastard.” I said when he didn’t reply to my question. I stalked out of the room and left him looking like an idiot.
His fingers brushed my cheek for a moment. And then he was gone—just gone it was like he wasn’t even there. My best friend has been dead, and I didn’t know, I wouldn’t accept it and he finally said goodbye. Gentle fingertips brushing my cheek. He was gone.
He didn’t kiss me on the cheek
When he greeted me he went straight for the lips
It had been weeks, no months since we saw each other
So, I guess we’re not just friends?
I see that I created the sadness that is now radiating in her eyes. As I reach out to stroke that final tear from her cheek I realize that it is not my place. That right belongs to the guy that will treat her like she deserves… that could’ve been me.
He kissed me on the cheek the morning after. And the day after that. He kisses me on the lips when I taste like wine. and my cheeks are flushed with drink.
his cheek was scruffy. he hadn’t shaved in days. his breath smelt of cigarettes. although i don’t like smokers, i loved the way he tasted. it felt so good, so sensual, his cheek on mine, his lips so soft.
when i think of cheeks, I think of bums. Bums cheeks are good…good for sitting on and good for looking at. Espcially baby bums…those are the best, hands down! So soft and squishy and perfectly round..:)
He had dimples. Small, barely noticeable dimples tucked far away. The only reason she could even see them was because of the huge smile he had spread across his face.
A huge, smug smile.
That snapped her mind back to the important things – like anger.
apparently the tongue has refused the cheek on this autumn soaked summer day. there are no jokes for us or them so i choose the written over the spoken. lips pursed, cheeks deflated i wait for work.
He had dimples. Small, barely noticeable dimples tucked far away. The only reason she could even see them was because of the huge smile he had spread across his face.
A huge, smug smile.
That snapped her mind back to the important things – like anger.
“What’s your problem?”
“Don’t think you can give me cheek and get away with it!”
She laughed quietly to herself as she ignored the screeching of the woman behind her as she carried on, cheerfully making her way back home.
Do you ever get that feeling, that blissful warmth, of waking up under an open window, with the breeze of summer’s hand brushing softly against your cheek, slipping sweetly through your hair?
Somewhere over the rainbow he knew that he could actually sleep. Not in the crazyhouse though, that could never be. He wanted to hold her, and stroke her cheek, but he couldn’t, he was too exhausted.
No att? Same ordet to gonger på rad, det kan då ikkje vera sunt for omgivnadane. Ho tykkjte det blei feil, og ho skreiv feil. Ho kunne ikkje stave meir. Kjaken hans såg ut som eit fjell med ei djup kløft i. Ho likte det, men ho visste ikkje heilt kvifor.
his cheek was soft. like cotton candy. she wanted to lick it. his name wasn’t very pretty, but his cheek would probably taste like a snow cone. whatever that might be. she liked it. it made her feel fuzzy, and she kissed him.
Oh the cheek! To think that I would deign to accompany that young man on a journey through Orange country. Everyone knows oranges are full of toxic paper and other unfaithful assets.
Donovan touched his cheek. It still stung from the slap. He checked it again. It felt hot to the touch. He turned into the wind, put his head down and walked across the street.
I bite the inside of my cheek as you walk away. Do I call out? Say I’m sorry, beg forgiveness? Or do I turn my back and forget… I stand and watch you walk, unable to speak a word.
Her cheek had dried blood on it. I tried to brush it off, but she backed up. “No. Don’t touch me again.” And with that, she left, leaving me with my broken heart.
they danced cheek to cheek, his on hers. They used to dance together every friday night, used to kiss when nobody was looking, hid their hands behind them, stole glances occasionally. It was old now. It was old and they had nothing left to say.
And we grow fat on the charm of cheery cheeks, seen ominous, seen grave.
well I already did a thing for this. cuz I stumbled upon it. but then to save it I had to register and so now I’m back to this word. is it only one word a day? weird. I want multiple words. TONS OF WORDS. words, everywhere.
A cheek on a face. Red, dimply maybe? Cheek. Cheeks look different when people smile. Really different, happier.
kisses on the cheek from now on, better to have lost than to have never loved at all! Better things are always ahead…
Uh, I guess it’s a word about either cockiness or your face. It’s making me think of my girlfriend for whatever reason. =/ I miss her lots…. She’s really awesome.
a peck on the cheek,
and that was the last of you.
never said goodbye.
It came so close. The inevitable halt to the night. Our last night together, before we separate; you to the Mideast, myself to the South. No matter how much I held it in, there was this irrevocable sought for our time to be extended. And then for our last kiss, I felt two imprints on my cheek, then, “I’ll see you soon”
He slapped me in the face. “What the hell was that for?” I bursted. Usually, I wouldn’t be able to say anything. I would normally stay quiet and cry silently after he left. But the one good thing he had ever done for me was give me courage. “You dumb bastard.” I said when he didn’t reply to my question. I stalked out of the room and left him looking like an idiot.
my last one bounced.
bad.
but I guess that’s what you can expect from an irresponsible prick.
His fingers brushed my cheek for a moment. And then he was gone—just gone it was like he wasn’t even there. My best friend has been dead, and I didn’t know, I wouldn’t accept it and he finally said goodbye. Gentle fingertips brushing my cheek. He was gone.
He didn’t kiss me on the cheek
When he greeted me he went straight for the lips
It had been weeks, no months since we saw each other
So, I guess we’re not just friends?
I see that I created the sadness that is now radiating in her eyes. As I reach out to stroke that final tear from her cheek I realize that it is not my place. That right belongs to the guy that will treat her like she deserves… that could’ve been me.
jouer, jouer avce les gens, jouer des autres. jouer avec des enfants. redevenir un enfant. Ne plus se soucier de rien. Juste s’amuser
He kissed me on the cheek the morning after. And the day after that. He kisses me on the lips when I taste like wine. and my cheeks are flushed with drink.
His tongue dragged over her cheek, licking up the sauce that had smeared there after her last bite. Her breath hitched. He smirked as he pulled away.
cheek to cheek, dont get left out. stay close.
I promise, i love you
remember this…
“i’ll jsut turn the other cheek” he said
“who are you?” she creamed “jesus!? why do you have to be so righteous all the god damn time!”
his cheek was scruffy. he hadn’t shaved in days. his breath smelt of cigarettes. although i don’t like smokers, i loved the way he tasted. it felt so good, so sensual, his cheek on mine, his lips so soft.
That one single drop
did rest oh so quietly
upon one pale cheek
when i think of cheeks, I think of bums. Bums cheeks are good…good for sitting on and good for looking at. Espcially baby bums…those are the best, hands down! So soft and squishy and perfectly round..:)
He felt along her cheek with the backside of his hand. Their eyes met and she looked down they didn’t know when they would see each other again.
He had dimples. Small, barely noticeable dimples tucked far away. The only reason she could even see them was because of the huge smile he had spread across his face.
A huge, smug smile.
That snapped her mind back to the important things – like anger.
“What’s your problem?” she snapped.
apparently the tongue has refused the cheek on this autumn soaked summer day. there are no jokes for us or them so i choose the written over the spoken. lips pursed, cheeks deflated i wait for work.
He had dimples. Small, barely noticeable dimples tucked far away. The only reason she could even see them was because of the huge smile he had spread across his face.
A huge, smug smile.
That snapped her mind back to the important things – like anger.
“What’s your problem?”
Bay-seat-toe.
“Don’t think you can give me cheek and get away with it!”
She laughed quietly to herself as she ignored the screeching of the woman behind her as she carried on, cheerfully making her way back home.
His cheeks are what I love to kiss the most. I miss them more than I miss my bong, more than I miss my bed.
Do you ever get that feeling, that blissful warmth, of waking up under an open window, with the breeze of summer’s hand brushing softly against your cheek, slipping sweetly through your hair?
My buttcheeks are sore. I sit too much. Fuck my buttcheeks. I need new ones. http://www.buttcheeks.com
He stroked her cheeks, turned rosy from the cold.
He leaned in, and they shared their final kiss.
Somewhere over the rainbow he knew that he could actually sleep. Not in the crazyhouse though, that could never be. He wanted to hold her, and stroke her cheek, but he couldn’t, he was too exhausted.
on it is the hand and beside it is the eye and it roses when called upon and it bends when pecked and it is part of the face that i see.
No att? Same ordet to gonger på rad, det kan då ikkje vera sunt for omgivnadane. Ho tykkjte det blei feil, og ho skreiv feil. Ho kunne ikkje stave meir. Kjaken hans såg ut som eit fjell med ei djup kløft i. Ho likte det, men ho visste ikkje heilt kvifor.
his cheek was soft. like cotton candy. she wanted to lick it. his name wasn’t very pretty, but his cheek would probably taste like a snow cone. whatever that might be. she liked it. it made her feel fuzzy, and she kissed him.
Oh the cheek! To think that I would deign to accompany that young man on a journey through Orange country. Everyone knows oranges are full of toxic paper and other unfaithful assets.
Shit!
Donovan touched his cheek. It still stung from the slap. He checked it again. It felt hot to the touch. He turned into the wind, put his head down and walked across the street.
We danced at her wedding. our bodies close, our cheeks touching. I knew then, in that moment, that she couldn’t ever be mine.