I will be the first to admit that I’m quite a foolish girl. I can have all the logic, all the over analysing self awareness and all the intuition in the world, but I will still lose myself entirely in a kiss.
Not just one of those “I want to get your pants off” kisses. Those are a dime a dozen. No, I’m talking about those epic kisses that take your breath away, makes your heart skip a beat and your legs quiver. The ones that leave you standing there with your eyes still closed while your brain and body attempts some composure. Yes those kisses. They are my kryptonite.
Those kisses are so few and far between. It seems like once I’ve finally gained some footing from the last one, a new one comes to knock me down again. It’s one of those kisses that makes you forget your name for the moment. Hell, it makes you forget the world in which things like names even matter. It’s just a blinding bliss, that takes hold and leaves you completely at its mercy, or as is usually my case, lack thereof.
These kisses are my downfall. They ride in on men that wear my broken heart on their sleeves. Like mainlining that first hit, they are euphoric and consuming. Afterwards they are all I can think about. I will lose focus, and disregard the details. Suddenly it won’t matter that this man isn’t my match. This kiss is like a drug and it leaves me wanting it all, all at once, all the time.
These kisses are so rare that I’ve only had a few of them. Which is probably fortunate since I don’t know how someone could experience this on a routine basis. This last one left me reeling. In fact, this last one was so great that the withdrawal from it made me ache. So much so that I hope the next kiss takes its sweet time getting here.
But in the meantime, I’ll close my eyes and remember.