Somewhere along the lines, she learned how to kiss. Not that anyone doesn't
naturally know how to kiss, I guess I should say she kissed me better in my
opinion of the kissing thing, but you get the idea. They used to be forceful,
and while I very well felt the warmth of love and desire while we exchanged
lip blows, I was sore afterwards.
Time, as always, passed, but we never passed each other. Kisses evolve along
with the rest of the relationship, and sometimes through them you can taste
truth and honesty. Sometimes you just love the contact, especially when you
have lacked it, and that clouds all else. With long distance relationships,
the value of kisses appreciates exponentially.
I had to go away, and in some degree parts of me always came back to reclaim
the evolving kiss. They became softer, more caring and nurturing, casual yet
deep, sometimes lovingly desperate, but not quite so odd as so long ago they
used to be. Our heads move differently now, instead of into each other we move
around, rotate and slide. Maybe it's me, maybe I receive them differently.
Evolving. It's the evolving of our kiss. No person is perfect, I mean
you have to learn with someone. We learned with each other.
We had to separate again. Following the path the world lays out for us I guess,
not that we let it come between us. There is something about separation that
increases the value of kissing. When you come back, the kisses always revert
to the ones you first shared. For me coming home was a return to the forceful
kiss, and I welcomed it.
In a brief reunification, you can get a miniseries history of the kisses you
have evolved with whomever you're with. At first you rid yourselves of the
deprivation from the lack of being able to kiss, messily groping the other
for contact. That shortly melds into how you first began to kiss, then
once that gets out of the way you get to remember where you left off. If
you're lucky, maybe you learn something new on the spot.
But now there are only casual pecks between us. The book of history of our
kisses is closing, along with our mouths, our hearts. We changed away from
each other, and sometimes the evolution of the kiss is not enough to offset
that. We changed. I made mistakes. We sometimes briefly touch lips in
acknowledgement of our past and acceptance of where we are. Someday soon,
I sense we won't even do that anymore, but I'll always remember the taste
and echo on my lips from the kiss that begun it all.