His Kisses

She can’t stop thinking about his kisses.

After 20 years, she honestly didn’t remember what his kisses felt like. She couldn’t remember the taste and softness of his lips. But I wanted to be reminded that day.

He hugged her, held her, but when he squeezed a handful of her ass, she knew she had to take her shot.

He pulled his head back from her shoulder and tried to turn, but she held his chin and brought her mouth to his.

He tasted amazing. His lips were unbelievably tender. And she suddenly remembered every kiss she had ever shared with him.

He wasted no time, touching her lips with his tongue. So gently, so perfectly. The way he kissed her back was electrifying, and she knew she was alive. Just like when he had moved her off the curb the week before.

And now? She couldn’t forget his kisses if she tried. The way his lips caress, the way his tongue flicks, the intoxicating taste and smell of him. She drinks his kisses in like a liquor, and forgets the world around her.

She could spend hours tracing his luscious lips with her fingers, her tongue, her toes, her lips… She wants to feel those lips on every inch of her. She can’t stop thinking about it. She can’t stop thinking about him.

She misses his kisses. They make her feel like a damned capable woman.

She misses his kisses. They make her feel sexy and irresistible.

She misses his kisses. They are a whole world of ecstasy, and only his kisses have ever made her orgasm without any other stimulation.

She is so glad she kissed him that day. Even if she never got to kiss him again, she knows every kiss they have shared until now will be with her for the rest of her life.

She will never forget those kisses again. They are the only ones she can even remember anymore.

 

image by Steve K Art

Advertisements

Any Given Sunday

Sundays are the worst, the hardest. She has come to dread Sundays.

She turns on the game. Some beasts versus some other beasts. She isn’t really interested, she just hopes it will make her feel close to him. She is barely paying attention as she watches the men run down the field, throwing and tackling.

All that she wants is to be with him. Knowing this is what he does on this day and doing it too was supposed to make her feel better. It does not. If anything she feels worse.

Her heart aches. Her throat is dry. She wants to cry, but has no tears left to shed. She is broken. She is starving. She is dying. She needs him in a way she never should have allowed herself to need anyone.

One of the Bears or Lions or Seahawks or other animals scores a touchdown. She really doesn’t care. She turns off the game. It didn’t make her feel anything except the void where he should be: with her, holding her, making love to her, making her laugh, making her world complete.

What is strangely harder though, is how much she hurts because she can’t do all that she wants to do for him and with him. She can’t comfort him, can’t cheer him up, can’t fill his stomach, can’t make him smile, can’t rock his world. It pains her to know she can’t give him all she longs to give him. All that she knows he desires and needs.

She feels drained, empty, alone. She doesn’t know what to do next. She checks her messages.

Nothing.

A whole lot of nothing.

Nothing feels good anymore.

Nothing but his arms, his voice, his laughter, looking into his eyes, being wrapped up with him.

Nothing, but him.

 

 

All of It

A little over a year ago…

She loves him with all her heart.

It’s not very eloquent, nor is it an original sentiment, but it’s ever so true. It’s how she feels any given moment of the day.

The way her heart aches in his absence and swells in his presence.

The way it skips a beat when he says her name and beats out a rhythm that says his name.

The way it feels as though her heart will burst when she is wrapped up with him, yet it feels like a vice grip squeezing the life out when he goes.

Her heart is so far gone, she doesn’t know that she’ll ever find it again. But she does know he will keep it safe and cherish it, so lost in him is not without hope.

Yes, it’s been said before; by many a person she is certain, but she sincerely doubts anyone else’s heart could love him like hers does.

The Toughest Decisions

Decisions. Choices. Crossroads. Quandaries. Call them what you will, they are a part of life.

Sometimes they are simple and have little overall significance like, “What kind of toothpaste should I buy?” or “Which earrings should I wear?”

Other times, they are life-altering like, “Which job am I going to take?” or “Who am I going to live and breathe for?”

Some choices are black and white: good versus evil, right versus wrong. Some are shades of grey: mind versus heart, body versus soul, self interest versus the best interest of others.

These grey choices are often the most difficult. They can tear you up, inside and out. They can destroy your health and sanity. They can make you angry and miserable. They can overwhelm you to the point of taking desperate measures. But they often hold the greatest rewards.

Navigating that difficult grey area, where there is no obvious answer, no definite answers is hard, but fulfilling. Making a choice, that decision, any decision, rather than living in a place of indecisiveness, in those circumstances, holds freedom and relief and joy. You just have to have the courage to step out in faith and do what your heart tells you to do.

That is the nature of the impasse they found themselves at: an impossible decision either way. Totally unfair in a way, but ever so necessary. And only he could choose for the the both of them.

She had decided back on day one; hands down, no questions asked, he is what she wants, and he is worth the risk.  She had gotten them halfway there, but he had to come the other half himself.

Standing by his side, she would gladly cover the distance with him, but she could not cover it for him. And so she waited. She waited and she waited. Sometimes patiently, sometimes not. But at all times with a heart full of love and understanding for him and the situation he was in, ready for anything.

 

42 Reasons

It’s not an all-inclusive list, it’s just the first 42 reasons that come to mind.

1-He knows everything about her and he loves her anyway.

2-He has never tried to shape her into who he would like her to be.

3-The connection and the chemistry between them is soul deep, it’s spiritual, it’s next level.

4-He is everything she ever wanted in a man.

5-He is intelligent

6-He is wise.

7-He is the handsomest man she has ever laid eyes on.

8-His smile turns her world upside down and fills her with joy. (And also gets her panties off…)

9-He is kind.

10-He is gracious.

11-He is patient.

12-The way he growls, “You’re all mine,” when she is climaxing.

13-He is courageous.

14- He knows to handle shit when life gets rough and he lets nothing overwhelm him.

15-He is ambitious.

16-He is always growing and evolving.

17-He works incredibly hard to take care of everyone else.

18-He is strong.

19-The way he loves her toes.

20-He is good-humored and so much fun.

21-He fucks her silly.

22-The way he twitches and aftershocks when he climaxes.

23-His laughter is the most contagious and natural thing, bringing her out of any funk she is in.

24-He is so seductive, so very irresistible.

25-He is so perfectly capable with her clitoris. He never ignores it.

26-He encourages her to be herself and believe in herself.

27-He knows she can stand on her own two feet, and yet he balances that independence with protectiveness and safety.

28-He brings out the absolute best in her in every way. She is a better woman not because he tells or forces her to be, but because he makes her want to be the best and most real version of herself.

29-He understands her.

30-He never shames or makes fun of her.

31-The way he says, “You hear her talking to me?”

32-The way he trusts her.

33-The way she trusts him.

34-He always asks for one more.

35-He never gives up on her.

36-His arms: the safest place she knows.

37-He doesn’t let her apologize for shit she hasn’t even done wrong.

38-He is creative, coming up with ideas for his future and spitting lyrics and rhymes off the cuff.

39-He inspires her. She wants to do and be better.

40-He calls her by a name no one else can.

41-He is the most sensational kisser!

42-He is EXCEPTIONAL. There is no one like him.

How It Feels

It feels like an eternity has passed since she was able to breathe. Every inhale is a struggle; every exhale feels like the last.

It feels like life itself has ended, like everything she is is over, there is no point to any of it without him.

It feels like she will never smile again, or that if she ever does, she will be so old and so worn no tone will see the beauty in her face or heart, only the lines and the scars that are there.

It feels like the pain will take up permanent residence in her chest, and she will ache even in heaven, because she is already in hell.

It feels like the crying will never stop. It comes in waves. Sometimes the tide is low and the surf is gentle, and other times the weeping roars and crashes, and she nearly drowns in her tears.

It feels like she will forever be longing for home and not get there, like she will never have a home. A nomad, a wanderer, a gypsy. A woman without a home until she ceases existing, not death, but a nonexistent life.

It feels like he never loved her, like it was all a lie, but at the same time, it feels like she had only ever known love when she was with him. And like it’s the only love she will ever know.

Fist Fighting with Fire

Rihanna’s song expresses her feelings as if the lyrics are a mirror being held up to her very soul. She has heard it many times before, but today she really heard the words.

She has been beaten black and blue by love. She has run for miles just for a taste of him. She has been played like a violin. She has gone to hell and back to get into his motherfuckin heart, his world.

Despite what all of that, everything about him, everything he is and everything he does, makes it impossible for her to stop. He’s got her, and she truly cannot get enough. She is completely and madly in love with him.

And love? Love just keeps cursing her with desire for him. Despite both her pride and her shame, she begs him to be hers.

Don’t you stop loving me, don’t quit loving me, just start loving me, babe.

No matter how many times she’s read and heard and known in her own head, that she should never have to beg someone to be with her, her heart wants him so desperately, she ignores her own common sense.

She has begged. She continues to beg. She doesn’t know what else to do. She’s no good without him.

It must be love on the brain.