How do you describe a kiss without it becoming simply a mess of meaningless detail? Maybe you can't. Maybe it's those details that somehow come together to form a single meaningful moment.
Ten moments in a long-distance relationship.
Their second kiss wasn't actually a kiss either, but at least some of the problems of the first had already been solved. She stepped into his waiting arms and he lifted her and held her close. Any initial hesitation vanished after an instant and returned only when they'd stepped apart. They didn't care who else was watching or that they had places to go. They didn't care that their bus station reunion was a cliche; they were together again and that was more than enough.
It wasn't until their third kiss that they actually kissed according to any traditional definition of a kiss. He was seated, forcing her to come to him, even as she made him come to her. Their first real kiss was every bit as awkward as their first kiss had been. She pulled away, ending it almost before it had begun. It wasn't the most auspicious of beginnings, but people say that practice makes perfect. They're still working at perfection.
They went back to not really kissing for their fourth kiss. He bought her dinner -- they sat at the window and watched as people passed -- and he remembered that she needed shoelaces. She held his hand as they walked, her fingers interlaced with his and her thumb playing unconsciously over his palm. Though they hardly touched, this kiss was so natural that neither one thought about it. They just kissed, even if it wasn't really a kiss.
He was leaving, their precious few days together at an end, when they kissed for the fifth time. It was early in the morning, hours before the sun would rise, and they both would rather have been upstairs, asleep in one another's arms. She threw her arms around his neck and held tight -- he hugged her so hard she could barely breathe. And then, reluctantly, he hurried off into the night. She went to the window and watched until he'd vanished.
By the time they kissed for the sixth time, they were comfortable with it -- they'd had more practice than the number would seem to imply. It was New Year's Eve and they weren't watching the time because they'd already watched the ball drop an hour before midnight. Some classic jazz was playing half-forgotten in the background. They noticed the old year has passed away only long after it was already gone, and so their first kiss of the new year was slow and unhurried.
Their seventh kiss was bittersweet. This time she had to leave. No matter how much she'd tried to delay the separation, the time had. She fought back tears as they kissed briefly, pressing lip to lip for the final time. A few soft words and she had to walk away. She didn't dare look back at him -- she'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't cry.
Despite the success of their sixth and seventh kisses, their eighth kiss didn't involve a single real kiss. He met her with flowers and a hug so tight that it left her breathless. She leapt into his arms, forgetting that there might be other people watching, she was so happy to see him. It had been far too long since they'd las kissed and too much had kept them apart since that last time.
Number nine followed not long after number eight. It was something she'd been waiting a lifetime for, even though she hadn't known that she'd been waiting. It was nothing more than a single moment, a heartbeat where everything else vanished and the universe was complete, just the two of them kissing in a way that was exactly the same as every other time they'd kissed and was still competely different. Uneasy, she turned away when the world came crashing back in and didn't mention anything about it to him.
Even though she'd told herself that she wasn't going to, she cried when they kissed for the tenth time. Too many of their kisses had been separations already and she couldn't help herself. He was understanding, holding her tenderly and letting her cry. She wondered if he could taste salt on her lips when they kissed. They delayed the final separation as long as they could, but the inevitable can't be prevented. They kissed as though promising one another there would someday be a number eleven.
They're still waiting...
Words by Melissa
Read 841 times
Written on 2006-04-14 at 20:15
Tags Kiss Romance
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
Ten moments in a long-distance relationship.
Stolen Kisses
Their first official kiss was awkward. The heights were mismatched and the timing was all wrong, so it wasn't so much a kiss as it was a wish for one. It was two people standing uncertainly on a sidewalk as strangers swept past on their way down the stairs into the Metro station. Their first kiss wasn't really a kiss at all; it was an uneasy embrace that neither wanted to initiate and then found they didn't want to end. It was the promise of things still to come.Their second kiss wasn't actually a kiss either, but at least some of the problems of the first had already been solved. She stepped into his waiting arms and he lifted her and held her close. Any initial hesitation vanished after an instant and returned only when they'd stepped apart. They didn't care who else was watching or that they had places to go. They didn't care that their bus station reunion was a cliche; they were together again and that was more than enough.
It wasn't until their third kiss that they actually kissed according to any traditional definition of a kiss. He was seated, forcing her to come to him, even as she made him come to her. Their first real kiss was every bit as awkward as their first kiss had been. She pulled away, ending it almost before it had begun. It wasn't the most auspicious of beginnings, but people say that practice makes perfect. They're still working at perfection.
They went back to not really kissing for their fourth kiss. He bought her dinner -- they sat at the window and watched as people passed -- and he remembered that she needed shoelaces. She held his hand as they walked, her fingers interlaced with his and her thumb playing unconsciously over his palm. Though they hardly touched, this kiss was so natural that neither one thought about it. They just kissed, even if it wasn't really a kiss.
He was leaving, their precious few days together at an end, when they kissed for the fifth time. It was early in the morning, hours before the sun would rise, and they both would rather have been upstairs, asleep in one another's arms. She threw her arms around his neck and held tight -- he hugged her so hard she could barely breathe. And then, reluctantly, he hurried off into the night. She went to the window and watched until he'd vanished.
By the time they kissed for the sixth time, they were comfortable with it -- they'd had more practice than the number would seem to imply. It was New Year's Eve and they weren't watching the time because they'd already watched the ball drop an hour before midnight. Some classic jazz was playing half-forgotten in the background. They noticed the old year has passed away only long after it was already gone, and so their first kiss of the new year was slow and unhurried.
Their seventh kiss was bittersweet. This time she had to leave. No matter how much she'd tried to delay the separation, the time had. She fought back tears as they kissed briefly, pressing lip to lip for the final time. A few soft words and she had to walk away. She didn't dare look back at him -- she'd sworn to herself that she wouldn't cry.
Despite the success of their sixth and seventh kisses, their eighth kiss didn't involve a single real kiss. He met her with flowers and a hug so tight that it left her breathless. She leapt into his arms, forgetting that there might be other people watching, she was so happy to see him. It had been far too long since they'd las kissed and too much had kept them apart since that last time.
Number nine followed not long after number eight. It was something she'd been waiting a lifetime for, even though she hadn't known that she'd been waiting. It was nothing more than a single moment, a heartbeat where everything else vanished and the universe was complete, just the two of them kissing in a way that was exactly the same as every other time they'd kissed and was still competely different. Uneasy, she turned away when the world came crashing back in and didn't mention anything about it to him.
Even though she'd told herself that she wasn't going to, she cried when they kissed for the tenth time. Too many of their kisses had been separations already and she couldn't help herself. He was understanding, holding her tenderly and letting her cry. She wondered if he could taste salt on her lips when they kissed. They delayed the final separation as long as they could, but the inevitable can't be prevented. They kissed as though promising one another there would someday be a number eleven.
They're still waiting...
Words by Melissa
Read 841 times
Written on 2006-04-14 at 20:15
Tags Kiss Romance
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
|
Christian Ward |
|
lastromantichero |
|
Jon Hanover |
