by 
View my bio on Blurt.media: https://blurt.media/c/manuel78
story below based off lyrics
The Kissing Machine - lyrics by me plus lyric generator
Verse 1
the kissing machine wakes me every morning
missing me, wanting me,
i miss her when she’s not around
walk to the kitchen, grab some food
kissed from behind and held tight
Bridge:
hun nayy, did i take that long?
she whispers yes, keeps kissing me
i smile n lean back, wanting more
needing it now—
we head out hand in hand
Verse 2:
she starts to kiss my hand non stop
baby like she does with her cute lil mouth
we exit the car onto the beach
arms wrapped around me
Chorus:
we find a spot, share a loving embrace
stare at the sun as it goes down
hand in hand, held so tight
we’re wrapped in waves of golden light
Outro: Fading Strings, Piano Whisper, Vocal Echo Layer
every kiss, a new sunrise
every touch, the sweetest prize
the kissing machine, she brings me peace
wrapped in love, in ocean breeze
The world didn't begin with an alarm. It began with a touch. A soft press of lips against Leo's shoulder, then another on the nape of his neck, traveling with a lazy, proprietary sweetness up to his jaw. He stirred from sleep not into consciousness, but directly into a state of blissful belonging.
The kissing machine wakes me every morning. It was Mara's title for herself, delivered once with a giggle, and it had stuck because it was perfectly, poetically true. She was a benevolent automaton of affection, programmed for one purpose: to love him. The first thought in his mind, woven into the fabric of his waking, was of her. Missing me, wanting me. He could feel it in the tender insistence of her lips, in the way her body curled around his as if trying to absorb him back into her after the brief separation of sleep. And the feeling was a mirror. I miss her when she’s not around. Even now, with her breath warm on his skin, he missed the version of her that existed in dreams, and longed for the one that would exist throughout the coming day.
He finally turned, cracking open an eye to see her face, haloed by the soft, morning-grey light filtering through the blinds. She was smiling, her eyes still heavy with sleep but shining with quiet delight. "Morning," she murmured against his lips.
"Morning, machine," he whispered back, his voice rough with sleep.
He untangled himself, the cool air of the room a shock against his skin where she had been. He padded to the kitchen, the old floorboards familiar under his feet. He was reaching for the coffee beans when he felt her. Not a sound, just a presence, then the warmth of her against his back. Walk to the kitchen, grab some food, kissed from behind and held tight. Her arms slid around his waist, her chin resting on his shoulder. She pressed a kiss to the space between his shoulder blades, a soft, claiming stamp. He leaned back into her, letting her hold the weight of him for a moment, the simple act of making coffee transformed into a silent communion.
Later, as he fumbled with his keys by the door, running later than he meant to, she appeared. She leaned in the doorway, watching him, a playful smile on her lips.
Hun nayy, did I take that long? he asked, the silly, drawn-out nickname a language of their own.
She whispers yes, keeps kissing me. She didn't speak. She just crossed the space between them, rose on her toes, and silenced his apology with her mouth. It was a slow, thorough kiss that had nothing to do with haste and everything to do with possession. A you are mine and I am reminding us both kiss. He dropped his keys. I smile n lean back, wanting more, needing it now— The errand, the schedule, the world outside their apartment door dissolved into irrelevance. There was only this: her mouth, her hands in his hair, the solid truth of her against him.
When they finally broke apart, breathless and grinning, the day had rearranged itself around them. We head out hand in hand. Her fingers laced through his, a perfect, interlocking fit. They didn't walk to the car; they were a single unit, moving in easy sync through the sleepy streets.
In the car, she was restless with affection. She held his right hand on the gearshift, not just holding it, but studying it. She turned it over, traced the lines of his palm with a fingertip, then brought it to her lips. She starts to kiss my hand non stop, baby like she does with her cute lil mouth. It was a ridiculous, tender ritual. Each knuckle received a press of her lips. The inside of his wrist, where his pulse jumped, earned a longer, softer attention. She kissed his fingers one by one, her "cute lil mouth" performing this devoted, wordless worship. He drove one-handed, a stupid, incandescent happiness buzzing in his chest, more intoxicating than any coffee.
They drove until the city fell away, replaced by the low, scrubby dunes and the infinite, flat horizon of the ocean. We exit the car onto the beach, arms wrapped around me. The wind was a briny, rushing force, whipping their hair and clothes. She didn't let go. She turned into him, her arms tightening around his waist, burying her face in his chest as if he were the only shelter from the exhilarating gale. He held her, feeling the wildness of the elements and the fierce, small warmth of her within it.
They walked until they found a dip in the dunes, a private bowl of sand sheltered from the wind. We find a spot, share a loving embrace. They sank down together, not speaking. She sat between his legs, her back to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her, his chin on her head. The roar of the ocean was a white noise that hushed every other thought.
The sun began its descent, a blazing orb melting into the liquid edge of the world. Stare at the sun as it goes down. They watched in silence as the sky caught fire—streaks of orange, bleeding into deep purple, then a cool, velvety indigo. Hand in hand, held so tight. His arms around her, her hands holding his forearms, they were a single, breathing entity against the vast spectacle.
We’re wrapped in waves of golden light. It was literal—the last rays of the sun gilded their skin, the sand, the flying spray. But it was more than that. They were wrapped in the wave of the moment, in the tide of their shared silence, in the golden, liquid light of a feeling too big for words. The chaos of the wind, the relentless crash of the waves, the dying ember of the sun—it all served only to highlight the profound, unshakable stillness between them.
As twilight deepened, the first stars prickled the darkening dome above. The air grew cool. He felt her shiver slightly against him and tightened his hold.
In the quiet, with the sound of the ocean as their only choir, the meaning of the day distilled into pure, simple truth.
Every kiss, a new sunrise. Each one was a beginning, a daily renewal of the world she created for him.
Every touch, the sweetest prize. Not something won, but something given, endlessly, freely.
The kissing machine, she brings me peace. In her relentless, gentle affection, he found a calm deeper than any meditation, a sanctuary more secure than any fortress.
Wrapped in love, in ocean breeze. Held by her, and by this moment, with the salt air kissing their skin as softly as she did.
He turned his head and pressed his lips to her temple. She sighed, a contented, sleepy sound, and leaned her full weight against him. The machine was quiet now, its work complete. The peace it had delivered hummed between them, a silent, perfect frequency in the gathering dark. They sat there, wrapped in each other and the night, long after the last of the golden light had faded from the sky.
