The Kiss

Kissing him was like having stars twinkle across the surface of my lips, dancing to the rhythm of my heart. He embraced me, pulling me closer as I breathed in, inhaling the faint trace of aftershave. I lost all sense of direction; I could have been upside-down and 30 feet above the ground without noticing. This is what I had waited so long for.

Before I had come to terms with it enough to really focus, it was over. I said goodbye and walked away grinning like a fool, down to O’Connell St. just in time to make my bus. The bus driver remarked on my cheery disposition. I hardly even noticed, lost in my rose-coloured haze. I remember touching my lips every few seconds to see if they were really there, almost testing, I thought if I could touch them then his lips definitely had too.

It was when I got onto the train that I realised, that was it. There would be no more between him and I. There would be no Summer romance, no more soft kisses. It was simply a tease. A reminder of all the things I had wished for in the last year; prayed for in the last year; all the things I thought I had gotten past. I wanted him to be mine. More than that, I wanted to be his. I wanted him to love me, but I knew there was only one thing he wanted me for, and that wasn’t love.

Maybe if we lived closer things would be different, I told myself, using that as a justification for our actions. Maybe he really does care about me as much as I care about him; dreams about me as much as I dream about him.

All the while, I knew I was fooling no one. I curled up my legs, disregarding the ‘Seats are not for feet’ signs, and rested my head against the cool window pane as my silent sobs separated me from the world outside, fogging up the glass.