I want to be kissed the same way I once craved adventure;
A little girl, dreaming of climbing mountains, of quests just like the ones in her books.

The same girl dreams now of the gentleness of soft hands cradeling my face, of stars in my eyes and giggles in the night.

I want to be kissed the same way I once craved adventure;
In theory.

I want not the cuts and bruises from the stones, the unbearable sun beating down at me as I climb higher and higher.

I want not the relationship, strange lips meeting mine.
I don't want to see a face all too close, to know its details or hear its name.

I don't want to be kissed.
I want the fantasy of romance, the love of the story, the soft gestures of imagination.

If I am but a character of my own creation,
then I don't want the story to come true.