Friday, 13 February 2015

The Kiss

The Kiss, Gustav Klimt

"You’re too scared to kiss me."

He said it just like that. Plain. Simple. A bit amused.

"No I’m not."

"Yes. You are. You’re too scared to kiss me."

And I was. I was so scared. Because I was one kiss away from complete surrender and I just didn’t know if my heart was ready to surrender to him.

I knew that if I kissed him, it would hurt. The kind of hurt that comes from feeling every feeling all at once. The kind of pain that comes from your soul leaping from your mouth into theirs. The kind of agony that is only felt from yearning for more. The kind of ache that sits across your chest from holding your breath.

I knew that if I kissed him, he would know. The deal would be done. My fate would be sealed. If I kissed that man this woman would change.

If I put my mouth on the mouth that I had watched talk to me for what felt like years of banter, how would I recover? That mouth that smiled at my soul. That mouth that asked all the right questions. That mouth that told me so many things. That mouth that millions of words had spilled out of into my mind and flooding my heart.

What if my kiss would silence him? What if everything I knew would happen to me, didn’t happen to him? What if at the exact moment that my heart exploded, his quieted?

Oh God, but what if he felt the same way? Then what would I do? This man may love me. Really love me. And I don’t know if I’m ready for that. And I don’t know if I’m worthy of that. A man like that doesn’t fall in love with a woman like me.

Does he?

Could he? 

What would he do with that kiss? Would he taste love? Would he fall into it or would he rack it up as another private conquest? Should I care? It’s just a kiss and I had kissed so many others before this moment.

It’s just a kiss.

Except I knew that wasn’t true. This was THE kiss. And I was terrified.

He was waiting. Smiling at me with that mouth. Seeing me with those eyes. Standing in front of me. Calm, relaxed and knowing.

Can he read my mind? How does he know I’m scared? Am I that obvious?


"I think you’re too scared to kiss me" I counter, stalling.

"No" he says. And I believe him.


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