The Art Of Kissing

Have you ever tried to find the words to tell someone how good they make you feel, only to find that there just are no words to explain it? Like how could you describe the most beautiful-lest, craziest, exciting-nest, scariest feeling in the world, when the word for it has yet to be invented? (well yeah, I just invented a few words in that sentence but that still doesn't accurately describe it :-p )

That "indescribable feeling" is exactly how I was feeling when I wrote "The Art of Kissing," and it is a great example of the good that Cupid can wield with those arrows of his. It's a shame he doesn't do it more often :-p I'm filing this one under "the good."

The Art of Kissing

I’m watching the chocolate of his skin peek from his shirtsleeve, and I have the sudden urge to kiss his tattoos. Right here right now - in the middle of this restaurant – I want to crawl across the table and press my lips to his chest, right where the ink covers his heart.

I must be crazy.

'Cause I know he’s sitting here talking about the struggle, and religion and education but I feel so strange...like he’s kissing me on the inside with his words, his thoughts, his presence. I squirm in my seat, aching for the words to kiss him back.

But I’m no good with words. I want to press my lips to his chest, right where the ink covers his heart. And as my lips touch the creative expression of his struggle, I want him to know that I’m blessing the fighter within. I want to plant wet kisses everywhere he drowned his pain in ink. And I want my sticky sweet food for thought nurturing him and sustaining him til his next fight.

But as we sit here – in the middle of this restaurant - I try to speak but my thoughts start tumbling. I look away, remembering how other men have laughed or delighted in my fall. But he does neither. Instead, he cups his hands around my jumbled words and brings them gently to his lips. And though I’ve never left my seat, I know we’re kissing because he’s drinking me in so slowly…and deliberately…I can’t breathe.

I feel so dizzy.