These are the musings of a poetic heart breathing gently like a warm breeze on a balmy sun-filled afternoon. He makes me sigh; such a sparkling gift, so perfectly bestowed, and brief. 

Ahhh, the lips.  You can keep them, more truly than you can keep any pop lyric which will never be yours alone.  You've kissed others, and so has he.  But those were all different, completely different.  Those others can't, and none in the future ever will, bring two together in one small moment, within one small space, sharing a single halting breath in any way even close to the way that you and he did it.  A kiss is an intersection of emotion and moment and neither will ever be the same again, not for you or for him.  Each kiss is as much yours now as it was in the instant you drew back from it. 

...big strokes, thick scribble, bright colors only.  Warm as your lips are.