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Confessions

Incomplete Kisses

Those incomplete kisses, those incomplete kisses
Wait too long you’ll miss it
Photo by Chiara Mancini

How was it to be with you?  

    To feel you, touch me, slowly. I had imagined your tenderness and dreamt of your desire. You were sweet, compassionately cultivated in design and texture, a bottomless treasure that I had the opportunity to explore. It was similar to the dimensionality of your soul. Curiously scented and darkly lit.

You let me in.

We moved through embraces, holding each other with a gentle care. I wanted you erotically but we held each other platonically. You wanted to be touched. I wanted to be soothed.

The comfort of my body eased your formative blues while the pleasure of your heart next to mine honeyed my loneliness.  It was perfectly synced. I had been anticipating you for a while and I had wanted you for longer. 

Your physicality changed me.

I wanted you, furiously. Bubbling and churning, I played with the silence that lived in my head. Your presence did not disturb or disrupt but created vibrations. I followed them like trails of breadcrumbs.  I wanted to chase.

I explored the crevices of your words like my own reflection. Succumbing to the gentle waves of your oblivious nature, with a smile. Your fragrance was rare; sentimentally creative, it willed me to stay. Your mind was na├»ve with all the right curves and honest determination of abstract concepts. I swivelled and danced along the mischievous lines of your smile, like a hungry fox in city streetlights. You were like no other. I wanted to blow through you like a savage, it stalked the back of my mind as swarms of desire swam to the front. I wished to hold the burden of you like a stick of dynamite. Freeing to explore but deadly to engage.  

I put up no fight; I wanted you to taste me, take me.

For a while.

I wanted the grooves of your body to create pulses of pleasure and I wanted the figments of your thrashes to play on my mind, on moon-filled nights. I remember something entirely different now; the soothing nature of your soul and the binding feeling of safety. My natural inclination to hide lasted as long as you wished to seek. There was no game, only sincerity.  I appreciated this more than I could speak.

I wanted you before we met. I was wet.

I had desired you long before my broken heart had left prolific craters to be filled. I had remembered your touch as generous and I wanted to move with your nectar once again. The touch of your desire was used to create a pounding moment of satisfaction. I reached over, playing with your teeth- desiring your bite. It was deeper than I anticipated.

I could feel your sweat and your incessant grinding. You were delicious; my mind stayed clear. I wanted to stay and play, to scream and find new ways of understanding an ancient embrace.

I did not converge with you, my memory perceptions of previous embraces created a dangerous tempest. I relished you, with a ravenous hunger that soothed raw images into condensed visions. I was not afraid. A dangerous desire existed within me; our union tickled it alive – whispering into your ear, I pleaded for you to take me. I begged with an authenticity that was surprising. I could have played with you again, but fear moved along my face and found roots in my eyes. Could you see it?

You were tempting, a rich treat that I was scared to taste further.

Your body became extra-terrestrial, a strange composition of curves and hips. I craved you. Yet my body moved into the shadows and my heart was long gone.

We met again, you were familiar.

I had tasted another that night, but I wanted to feel you.

The silence that you allowed, whispered the unspeakable. Stay.  It was intimate but the shallowness of my fear had begun to settle. You swayed deeper and I ran faster. My mind stretched above, I wanted the distance of pornographic pleasure. I wanted to be held but your arms whispered words of entwinement. The intensity of your grip was charming but further stimulation for my long distance run. My eyes flickered along your face. I wanted to see it all, how your face configured and found pleasure through the movements of our coupling. The undeniable curling of your lips and the flickers of your eyes, I sneaked a peak through the curtains of my unease.

You were a sweet remedy.

A genuine soul is the perfect medicine for a broken heart but you were something else entirely. You were tantalising, unlike the others. I desired to know you. Yet I wished to forget the aroma of your skin along with the embellished crater you left on my heart.

I ran.

I wanted to stay but the pitiful nature of my soul slipped into the day. I played on the goodbye, kissing your joints of motion: your writs, your forehead, your lips, and your hair. Tenderly soothing myself into the goodbye, I fingered your soul to chase. No bite.

Smudges of romanticism hewed your face and smell. You were a reassuring truth that I hoped would fade. I wondered who would take your place.

Photography by Chiara Mancini

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