lovers - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
My lover wrapped his arms around me in a moment and I let my head rest upon his chest. All my thoughts stopped as if my heart took over from my head when we were close. Next he would squeeze as if he needed to check I was really there with him, really there and really real... and I was, body and soul. I doubt anyone else ever felt the way I do about being in his arms, though I pity them if they did love this much and lost, because that's a pain that kills soft and slow.
In you I see the chance for that kind of love they say doesn't exist anymore. The type that spans far longer than one lifetime. I want a love that's passion and determination, fire with earth, yet is also a serenity souls can dwell in forever. It's not the kind of love for mortals, lover, so come if you dare. It takes courage to walk into the light after a lifetime of semi-shadows; it takes the heart of a lion because no-one survives its loss. So forever or bust, let's go.
Lover be my light in the ash of winter time. Lover lift me from these cold grey flakes that were once all I knew. Lover come with me, and even as you shine, I will light the galaxy, ignite every star so that they may forever show your way home, to me, to our love.
Lover, this is a journey; I want to discover who you are. If I try to make you into some ideal given by others, I will never know your heart and soul. That would be a loneliness for us both. So let us drink from the same cup of life yet remain our true selves - two souls joined yet forever unique.
In that moment my insecurity comes back for another bite and so I turn to Greg, "Is everything okay, really?"
He turns with that serious look that still has his trademark warm eyes, "So long as you're by my side, sweet angel, the rest of the world can go fuck themselves." And that's just what I needed to hear, that he's mine for now and into the future... that there will be a future... one I can survive.
Aries meet aries - not sheep - but hearts of flame, of passion unending. Meet the soul that plays like you, fights like you, holds on with determination like you. Feel the sparks in your finger tips just to touch, knowing that the love is legendary every time, that just one kiss is more addictive than any drug known to man. Now that you are no longer children, believing themselves the centre of the universe, become angels of perfect flame, separate and one.
Lover come close. Run your hands up my bare arms, not slow but fast. Send the electricity I need to jump start my heart. Let your hands cover my skin with soft lips following. To be in your arms is love, safety, and passion too. It is how you bring me back to life, revive what was lost, restore what was shattered. We are born to be loved, to be cherished for who we are, unconditionally. So though your words are precious, your laughter a remedy, it is the feel of your body that heals. Or perhaps it is all of them combined, perhaps they are more than their sum. Either way, lover, come close.
"If they're gonna hang you for loving me, they'd best be tying two nooses to that tree. What we have done, we did together, and if our love is a capital offence; I'm ready."
"Soft. Your hands. Soft and warm - on my face, on my chest, in my dreams, in the umbrella of a street lamp, under the first streams of morning light. Your hands in the pitch black of night, muscles and tendons dancing between each other in a lover's tango. Fingertips like matches grazing my skin with flame, our scars being the measure of our love. I bare my scars, because I remember the time when your flame danced on me forever, before your hands turned to ice."
Sameen ran her hand over the cloth cover of her ledger. It was her life's work to record the property of the district and she's sworn allegiance to the people to make it fair and correct. One mark in the wrong place and property that should belong to one farmer would be listed under another. By day she sat at her desk in the legislature, listening to the thrill of the market outside. She heard the hubbub of the market, the baying of animals and the shrieks of children playing on the baked summer soil. By night she copied the entries into three other books and hid them in her home. One book was never enough, one book could be stolen, and then what? Chaos in the district? Each book was identical, but only The Book Keeper was ever to know of the duplicates and their locations.
She picked up her working copy and dropped it into her hessian bag for the morning along with a new bottle of ink and a quill. Now it was time for her, now the work of the day was done. She sat back on the couch and waited for the knock at the door that would tell her Ida had come. Ida who told her that her skin wasn't the colour of soil but the colour of the king's coffee beans, that her hair wasn't simply black but it flowed like the river at midnight over her shoulders. She could do her duty by day, she could be the boring clerk the district required, but night time was hers...
Lila leans forwards, her warm breath in my ear, then she hums the song we used to do for karaoke in high-school. My lips, the ones that really didn't want to smile tonight, creep into a grin. She keeps on humming until I take her in a bear hug and kiss her. I swear this girl is an expert on keeping my heart beating, without her I'm sure it would simply stop.
How was she to put their love into mere words? An entire ocean of ink wouldn’t be enough to describe them. They were a starburst of light amongst the darkening dusk. They were all the stars in the sky condensed into a single point. They were everything and nothing at the same time. Together, they were both a beautiful dream and a catastrophic nightmare.
They were in love.
Brianna had been blessed with a true lover from the time she was a young woman. Geo loved her body and soul. Folks used to say whenever they saw them together their favourite love song would come to mind, so smitten were the two of them. They strolled arm in arm, listened to each other's words like they were auditory nectar and smiled more warmly than anyone else we knew. When the married the whole village was there, throwing confetti, not a dry eye anywhere. As they aged they gave so much to the community, as if there was so much love within them it naturally spilled out onto everyone else.
No matter how long those two were married, they were always lovers first. Life brought so many changes, from youthful teens to newlyweds, from young professionals to parents. There were ups and downs, times of closeness that seared one another forever into each other's souls and times of distance, of near isolation. Yet they always found a way back to being lovers, to passion's first true kiss, to that moment of union that makes lovers so special.
Troy linked his fingers into Charlie's hand and shot him a look that was all love, just the right hint of softness, a crease at the corners of his eyes. Both of them repressed grins as they checked out the street of bars, so much partying going on and only a few hours more until closing. Suddenly Charlie grabbed Troy tighter and lead him away, back toward the subway. Tory looked bemused until Charlie turned back, there was no doubting that look, he had a wonderfully wicked idea and all of it needed a darkened room and king sized bed.
Before the troubles it was a beautiful thing to be lovers, after all, how can two people who love be offensive? Not anymore. The bitterness has grown faster than the sidewalk weeds and the notion of "purity" is brandished worse than any weapon. It is the obsession of the powerful, what we commoners may and may not do. It's like they fear love itself, like it's love they want to put in a cage, convict it as an emotion too dangerous for the masses. So what now?
If fun has to be the "right sort" it isn't fun. If music has to be "the right sort" it can't lift the soul. If "love" must be sanctioned by those in power, it will die and leave a hole in our hearts to be filled with hate and depression. It's no wonder young lovers are caught every week, shamed in the town square, and punished in medieval ways. Love is something we all need to keep us going, those that don't have any become the monsters of our nightmares, intoxicated on the power of the new order.
Even without telling a soul it was soon common knowledge that Brian and Klara were lovers. It was in the way their gazes lingered on one another, the way their voices became softer and in the shy grins they'd never worn before. In casual conversation they stood that little bit closer than folks usually do, their body language so open and relaxed.
They lay naked in the moonlight, waves crashing the shore not far away, Ryan's arm draped over her waist. Paige lent in for a kiss, the kind she wanted to last forever, but after a time she withdrew to gaze at the face she loved so much. Ryan glided his hand over her skin to her face, brushing away a little sand. "Have I ever told you I love you?"
Paige grinned, he said the exact same thing every time. "No, uh uh," she shook her head and fought away the grin.
Ryan's hand had migrated to her hair, pushing it back from her face. "Well, I do. And you know what?" Paige heard the words before he said them, folding her lips inwards. "I always will." As always she dropped her gaze before meeting his, there was an intensity to it, like his love was kerosene and she was his only flame.
They flew over the luxuriant, fertile vegetation, playfully bumping into each other and smelling a peppermint-like fragrance. Roneet swooped down ahead of Alleto and skimmed the green water with her feet. She stopped and floated near a small sandy beach caressed by tiny waves where Boola lay on the white sand. Alleto landed beside her and she laughed, allowing Alleto to drift towards her enticing body.
They paddled away from the beach until it was out of site.
His wing brushed hers and she leaned forward, her warm breath in his ear. As his lips gently touched her slender neck, her face heated. His nose tickled her ear. Roneet giggled and ruffled her feathers and drew him to her moist lips.
''You say you're drunk but then I look into your eyes and they look sober to me. It feels to me as if you're looking for an excuse, to give me the impression this is something you weren't waiting for for weeks, to catch me in your nest like spiders do, for you surely are like one, spilling sweet words in girls' hearts to get them closer, and then letting them destroy themselves. And it feels to me as if me saying I had a glass of wine too many is an excuse as well, for I don't want to admit to myself I got caught despite promising myself I would never let you get to me. So we are both drunk, but not really, using drunkenness as an excuse so that we don't have to admit we have the thought of each other running through our veins, so that we wouldn't let each other see who we really are and what we really feel.''
We are mirrors and echoes of one another in so many ways that you are like a brother and a best friend rolled into one. Yet in truth we are sexual soul mates, an innate connection, the strongest bond there can be. You are the only one that can reach inside of me with such ease, stoking my passions, extinguishing storms. Just by knowing you I become my true self, gaining the strength and confidence I need to let my true colours shine through so brightly.
In that simple moment my lover wrapped his arms around me and I let my head rest upon his chest. All my thoughts stopped as if my heart took over from my head every time we were close. Next he would squeeze as if he needed to check I was really there with him, really there and really real... and I was, body and soul. I doubt anyone else ever felt the way I do about his arms, though I pity them if they did love this much and lost, because moving on isn't easy.