baiser de l'âme

It's like the sweetest, hottest, most unguardedly-cliche kiss in history;
the kiss that makes poets barf, because it's just so damn overdone.

But it's like that,
when you knock me off guard
in those in-between moments.

Like the one that went from
'Let's like each other' to
'I'm not sure how
be sane again with
that carnal vision
tattooed in my mind.'

The one where we were
drunk on bad wine and
good conversation,  
the night flowed
with tension
but it didn't get overwhelming
until we were in the parking lot
trying to figure out how
to leave the night for dead
without leaving the easiness behind.
 
Hovering between each other's car
as you stepped in for a tentative hug,
my nerves kicked in and
I started talking about nothing
a mile-a-minute, like, the price of parking
and that woman on her cell phone,  
and...and... and...

It spoiled the mood completely
and made you laugh, and then you did that
stupid lovers thing where you picked me
to hug me, up and sort of spun me around,
to get me to shut me the fuck up
and because you thought it was cute as
shit when I squealed and grabbed you for dear life

so afraid you'd let me go
or worse, let me fall

You put me down and I was too close
way too close, I pulled back, looking down,
gun-shy, weak, out of bluster and defenseless,
and your hand behind my neck
was firm and gentle and hungry,
and we both knew
I wasn't really backing away,
i never could back away.

Everything went
slo-mo for about a million years
while we closed in,
and I breathed in the scent of you
like checking the bouquet of a fine wine.

My hands were shaking,
you let me miss the first pass,
instead I rested my cheek against yours
shivering at the texture, as you ran
patient fingers through my hair,
and my lips, a soft red stain,
hid against
your jawline
as I lied to myself,
saying I wouldn't find my way
to your lips...

But I did...

you knew I would.

And it was like a spiderweb on the back of my neck
so soft, so light, that I barely remembered to be afraid
as my pupils shut out the light and imposed you as their new sun,
and my skin broke out in waves of chills
during that first brush of my lips against yours.

your lips against mine,
and your hands were still,
as you waited for me to chill the fuck out,
stop thinking so damn much
and just kiss you back,
like I meant it
like I needed the taste of you to survive the next moment.

The soft shivers turned into a slow burn
forcing the cravings, the longings, the pent up desire
to (holdyouhaveyouneedyouwantyou)
let go.

I made that small sound in the back of my
throat and faded toward you,
and it was game on
as you took the fuck over
and reminded me
that I couldn't wait for you anymore,
in a wet, open-mouthed
worship, with your tongue
showing my tongue the
way it likes to dance
in a precursor to
(later)
the delicious intimacy
that promised to follow.

Even though it'd never be
as intimate as we were
in that moment.

And, our hands were their own languages
as we got drunk anew
on each other
in that parking lot,
leaning against your car, knees weak, mind yours.
legs twined around your waist,
as we kissed that first time...

It's like that for me.

When I see you,
when you're not looking.

(fuck.)

(just fuck.)

Damn the puking poets, because it's...
It's like that for me.

I bought one of those
sleep mask-things
to wear when I look at you.

If nothing else,
it'll assure me that you closed
your eyes,
too.