December 14, 2015

I Cannot Kiss You Without Wanting More. {Adult}

lady on bed

“Before you slip into unconsciousness I’d like to have another kiss. Another flashing chance at bliss, another kiss, another kiss.” ~ The Doors

I am falling down. I am breaking. I have to confess, yes. It’s one of these moments when your body and senses want to say yes, and your mind is playing ball and chain with you.

Lust is never how I operate and you’re scaring me. I keep falling for the notion; it’s now or never. I want to fall in love; I want to stick with you, stick to you, hang around and stay put darling. My heart is shattering and longing for a while with you. I want precious plentifulness with you while you’re just inquisitive about a one-time thing with me.

One-time is heart-wrenching. One-time is a killer. One-time is not me.

I want profound. I’ll be habituated to you. I’ll fall for you…and you’ll tell me not to.

I am here to say no to lust at the expense of a little heartache and as a reminder for me to save myself all the trouble when you ask me to hold back my feelings one sullen day.

My abundance and rushing waves of sheer emotions will meet with your scarcity and draft of giving back, but there’s no halfway here.

So no, I cannot kiss you.

I cannot kiss you because I need to be sure that I can kiss you again. With you, I won’t, so I can’t kiss you.

I am hungry.

Flesh and skin… I need to be sure that my cries won’t be made out of telephone wires and smell like bourbon and gin.

Initiation is nothing that contradicts with my pride I’m afraid, and I need to make sure I won’t curse these eyes when I feel my little stars falling down my chin.

You are a wild challenge and I’m naturally indecisive. You like me so much but I like you even more. I’ll want to kiss you again, probably countless times when mindfulness eludes me. So I can’t kiss you, not now, not once—not in a million moons.

If I ever kiss you, you will be washing my lips down. You’ll make my tongue tingle; and you won’t kiss me, you’ll be kissing on me. A thousand full moons will light our shared dimmed ceiling. And I will finally, durably, not want nothing anymore. You will relish on my soul, and I will marvel at the beauty of warm bodies and silent songs.

I will send you love out of a surreal fall. I will love you in unity and in solitude. You’ll place your palms on my tense shoulders to hang my coat, feel on my neck with your nose, and I’ll be too close to feeling comforted, unbutton me off of my ribcage and it’ll feel fragile. You will have me sink in the fullness of your lips, you will have me flourish in serene wetness, the delectable sight of sliding bodies and luscious blossoms on our tongues causing friction in awe.

And I’d love to see you naked. I’d love you to journey my waterfall spine with your fingertips and my ever slow-paced searching face for yours with yours. There is a line in the middle of your chest towards your stomach that I’d be urged to love the most. Your bottom side to your back will be my favorite part to climb. And I will trace the veins on your hands and arms like a map to my existence, all my highs and all my lows, all my thresholds and milestones. We’d tangle up like that and I’d even lose sense of my limbs, for you have brushed yours against mine and I can no longer tell the difference.

You’ll seduce me. You’re good at it.

I’ll give you permission to taste me. I’d want you to taste me. I’d keep my legs open, sensual, and raw. Taste me, incite me, delicate glazed, coated, and dripping honey fluid, vanilla skin, break my orchid down into parts, lines, words, and syllables, and flow with each one separately, study your lovely poem, carefully, passionately, dive and linger, instill your ink, use everything you can, and don’t stay long, because I’ll miss your face, I’ll miss my back fitting into your stomach, molding myself into your hardness. I will fall in love with your elbows and knees and collarbones. I’ll keep you hot and warm. Bones and nerves.

God, you’re so graceful and tall. I will have one reply to any question you ask me: come over here. And you will heal me. Tomorrow will be too late to meet and collide, I will love and hate waiting and I don’t even think we’ll leave this room. You will heal me with clothes thrown across the floor, fingernails pressing deeply into both sides of your smooth hips, and sweet furious pounding that absorbs me in muse.

You will deplete me of oxygen and my lungs will crumble and hunger for one more time. You’ll replenish me in delight; I can’t fathom breathing anything but breathing you. I will know you by your sweet perfume that only that kind of silky skin permeates, by a trembling height, frantic and tender, that only you can deliver me to, and loud moans making rhythms painted red, silver and blue, moments where the air sparkles golden in a surge of one embrace. Can you keep a secret? Now will be my turn to eat you…

I’ve lost myself in you. I’ve probably kissed you countless times in my head and dreams.

Do you see how much I’m giving up?

Your kiss will surpass my will to move far away and you will tell me I have to. You’ll be familiar. You will take me. You will devour me. You will leave me. And I want to be found.

I can’t have one kiss with you. I can’t have one night with you. Darling I will merely look at you, I’ll look through you. You are the seize-the-moment kind of guy and I know you never thought I would have that kind of balance between following my head or kneeling with my heart on my sleeves in front of you; but I do.

And finally, I am grateful for every moment my mind was invaded by your soft lips, coffee skin and sun-kissed hair. My love-tainted lust for you can never be ignited.

A kiss is a big deal to me. Your kiss is a big deal to me. I want to quiet my longing. I want to be free. It burns but I am strong.

So I want to say no. I want to pass—this time. I want to give space for the love that I deserve to come and be here to stay. At this time in my life, I want to give myself space so I can receive.

We’re here to consolidate each other. Remain stoic. Say no if that’s what you feel like doing. A place where you succumb to loving emotions is never wrong, especially when it’s that beautiful, but don’t stay there too long. Remember what your heart is calling for.



Relephant Read:

When They Don’t Love You Back.


Author: Salma Shehab

Apprentice Editor: Pat Steele Nielsen/Editor: Sarah Kolkka

Image:  José Manuel Ríos Valiente/Flickr

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