May 13th, 2010
“I want to kiss you”
I am not talking about on the cheek, or this bullshit sort of peck on the lips.
I am talking I walk in the room, my eyes meet yours, I walk to you ignoring everything in site. I back you up until you sit down, in that chair or on that couch. I straddle your lap, or jump into your arms, grab you by the collar and I lean in so close, my breath on your lips, looking into your eyes, then I kiss you with every ounce of passion in my being.
I kiss you because this is the kiss that says it all. It says that on the days that I feel shitty I want your comfort, that on the days I feel great I want to share it with you.
I am urgent, and gentle, I am strong, but not forceful, I am delicate and in control, this is all in this kiss. I am kissing you like you are the eternal spring of life and I am dying.
I kiss you because regular air just doesn’t seem good enough anymore. I am kissing you in a way you have never been kissed and will never be kissed again. I kiss you because all day I was thinking about what your wicked lips do to me. I kiss you with the frustration and anticipation that was trembling inside me all day ready to burst.
My mind should have been on essays and excepts, on literature and authors. The only words I could think about were the ones I hear from the lips I wanted to kiss. The only writers I could think about was the image of you tracing words onto my bare shoulders with your fingertips.
All day I wanted to say to you how you make me feel, but I couldn’t, not until now, when I tell you wordlessly, with my lips nonetheless. My own language specially made for you, with my tongue and lips.
The urgency of my grasp on your collar and the frantic beating of my heart were hints enough. I could kiss you as long as the time that you haunted my thoughts, but we would never survive, because I know that this kiss must end. That is why, I make every movement of my tongue, and lips one that will sear your skin like a brand.
Because I want to kiss you.