But because two can play at this game, I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.
The Hunger GamesA light rain touches my cheek like an angel's butterfly kisses.
Better to be able to love than to be loveableLove's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come.
Love Poems and SonnetsI say yes, turn the other cheek, and let me slap your butt again. Forgiveness can be oh so naughty.
This Book is Not FOR SALE