Today through the blur of my sleepless hang over I started thinking on the subject of kissing, as I often do. I started thinking about me and my pseudo boyfriend and how our kisses have turned from passionate and uncontainable to sad, very sad. There is a new softness between our lips that wasn’t there before, it’s as if we are trying to hold everything together with our kisses and nothing is working. The clock is ticking so quickly, ever so quickly and I can’t hold him here with my sad kisses.
Upon kissing someone else I begun to compare how these new kisses were so happy and so tight while my other kisses were falling apart a the seams. Maybe it was technique, maybe it was experience maybe it was the passion of a three year build up. I’m not even sure it was worth it even though I often refer to this new kisser as the love of my life. This love, this young love and his perfect tongue, shed so much light on the aspects of other relationships I am attempting to hold on to with sad kisses and lies. I hate that those fresh kisses made me sad instead of excited for future rendezvous. I did however tell my mother and she said she was very happy for me. Apparently I was wrong, they do want to know about your conquests and they think they are good things, probably in moderation. I’m getting too old for this shit. Sad kisses and happy tongues, drunken madness and Usher- a night that I wish I could return to and tweak to perfection.
On side note: Professor Paul are you still reading?