Kiss

I know I said I was going to be gone for a bit, but… Well, didn’t Robert Burns say something terribly clever and Scottish about mice and men and stupid plans?  This has been on my mind a lot lately, and so it seemed to be demanding to be written.  So I wrote it (and I may not write anything else again for a while).  And no, you may not ask me why.  I will simply lie with a straight face to you and call it a dramatic recitation or poetic license.  I will simply weave together something slightly maudlin about anniversaries, passing years, silver strands in the mirror, old year book photos, and BS you.  Because while I love you, not everything is your business….

The thing I crave most about being in a relationship just now is the kissing.  Isn’t that crazy?  Of all the multitudinous important aspects of everything that a relationship is and can be, right now, I miss kissing. I could be graphic; I can write that, but that’s not what I’m here for.  And it’s not the graphic side that I’m talking about, really, anyway. 

I miss all the ways it starts.   The casual touches, the tangled hands, or the fingertip across my lips.  That little smile that’s full of pure devilment or that slow steady glance that’s full of something that somehow consumes.  Things that are games or things that are totally serious.

I miss the feeling of being held close, of sharing the space with someone else, of no longer being an isolated island in the universe.  I miss the moment when his breathing changes, when the kiss changes, when it becomes sweet, or wild, or certain, or all of those things together, and for an eternal moment nothing else matters.

It’s been too long since I had anybody to share this simple thing with, and to be honest, the price for it with most of the ones I’ve met has been far too high, a kind of giving up, giving in, becoming something other, something else, for me to even consider it for very long.  Either they’re not interested (the usual) or I run as far as necessary (more rare, but it happens).  But still, when I’m tired and when it’s late, sometimes the sacrifice doesn’t seem like such a big thing.  While I’m okay with being alone most of the time, sometimes, just sometimes, just today, just now, this life I’ve picked gets very heavy.