I had forgotten how delicate of a kisser he was.

How soft his lips were,

how warm his mouth as it melted into mine.

It was so simple.

Simply sitting,

easy eye contact,

then he lightly placed his hand to scoop the back of my neck

and led my face towards his.


I had forgotten how sensual of a kisser he was.

How the rhythm of our lips,

our mouths

our tongues

seemed to beautifully complement each other.


It was a forbidden kiss.

One I knew should not take place,

but one that I knew was possible.

A kiss anticipated.


It was so simple.


His kiss, he himself, reminded me of warm, sweet milk.

Fresh and unspoiled,

soothing and comfortable.

It seemed to travel down into the depths of my body,

my being,

and satiate the voids of my soul.


It was a kiss of farewell,

one that wasn’t planned, but secretly wished for.

I would leave,

and he would stay.

The time had come for our lips to part,

our souls to separate,

our lives to detangle,

our hope to extinguish the wind in its sails.


And so it was.


But so I never again forget his kiss,

its delicate nature

and sensual bliss,

I warm myself a mug of sweet milk,

close my eyes

and escape into soothing, comfortable memories.

And once again

it becomes




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