…not fair, stealing kisses in a motel room. She was head-to-toe a disaster. She didn’t eat right. She didn’t talk right. She didn’t behave right. But she kissed me perfectly. Her lips felt like…JESUS, I can’t explain. There was no awkwardness in her tongue. There was no mishap in her movement. It makes me cry just remembering it.
The funny thing about this moment, this fragment in time, is that it wasn’t lusty. I didn’t need to have her. I just wanted to feel her lips on mine. I wanted my nose to do the fine dance of staying out of the way of hers. I wanted to smell her breath as it mingled with mine. But sex would have been unreasonable.
All this was triggered by a “hi”. Not a HIGH…but a hi. A single word and I was so fuckin’ hers. Her eyes tell stories of pain, neglect, mistrust, and loneliness. Mine simply reflect the world back at people as they offer a comfortable place to stay. My chameleon eyes, that change color with my mood.
We danced the dance for a year before we finally kissed and when we did there was explosions. There were marching bands in my head playing a fight song. Followed by utter silence in the world.
Then the kiss faded and I wondered. Could I handle waiting another year? It was possible that I might have to. Could I do it? I tore her heart from her chest with one syllable. No. I answered no.
Now as she sits and thinks on that, she must sink. Just a little, into the sand with every nostalgic thought. I know, at times, I do.
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