Your lips tasted like Winters kiss to me- you were chilling and enthralling.
This much I remember.
So as I stand and watch you kiss her- breathe life into her bones, I can't help but wonder if all of man kind got it wrong- believing that only women give life?
Perhaps men give it too- this much has to be true because how else can I feel the sting of your lips against mine standing a room across from you. In the taste of your lips and pressure of your hips I lost myself and is that not life in itself? or have all of our age old ideals confined that feeling of infinity into lust?
I used to stare at the leaves on trees- watching as they blew in the wind kissing each other ceaselessly- and envy that level of intimacy, until your lips gave beauty meaning , i understood it for the first time ever on the couch when my parents finally left us alone.
So now as I stand and watch. Watch as you kiss her lips-as if wishing to find the flavour of mine somewhere in that feigned passion and despite all these years having passed I can't help but feel my heart ache in my chest. I can't help but wish you were breathing life into my now dormant bones.
Your lips were a pssing season, one unlike any other and just a little bit of magic. Just enough to breathe life into me when I used to believe life was breathing and now I believe it means loving.