Normally, I Would Kiss You – Part 1
How do you do it?
How do you grab my senses to yourself? So that when I walk into a room that has you in it, my eyes look for you and don’t rest until they find you. My legs move one after the other, heels clinking, making their way to where you stand and won’t stop until I’m standing by your side. My hands won’t stay put when I place them by my side but will strive to fold into yours instead. And my lips. Well, they try but they never could be able to resist for long the urge to press against yours.
How is it that I only become aware of my heart rate and my breaths when I’m talking to you, smiling into your eyes, as the former beats way too fast and the latter isn’t fetching enough oxygen for my body?
You draw me to you. You make everything that’s supposed to be mine yours. And you don’t even try. So within minutes of spotting you in this room full of people, I’ll be laughing and fondling the beads on your wristband and you’ll be telling me all about your day and how much you can’t wait for it to end.
So I watch you talk. Not really hearing a word that you’re saying. And not knowing what to do with me. With you.
Because normally, during such moments, when your lips become so irresistible that I stop listening to what you’re saying, I prefer to face the elephant in the room head-on. I’d grab you by the waist and pull you closer to me. If I’m lucky I’d catch your words in my mouth and that sentence that you left hanging would find a cliff in my tongue. Then you’d smile. I’d kiss you as your lips spread out in a smile. Then you’d start to laugh. Making it hard for me to keep kissing you. So I’d pull back. Then I’d see the intensity in your eyes. I’d know we’re not playing because that look would try to burn me. So I’d look away only for a minute. Down to your rising and falling bosom. And my rising and falling bosom. But it will be hard to keep my eyes to myself and so I’ll bring them back to you. And you’d get to own them again. Because maybe I love to burn. Your gaze wouldn’t shift. Because maybe you love to burn me. You’d touch my lips. And my cheek. And then you’d say hey. Now. When I can hear nothing above the pounding in my chest. Now. When I can barely sneak in a whiff of breath. You’d say hey.
I wouldn’t find my voice. You’d find my lips. Because you want to see me go up in flames. And because my lips belong with yours anyway. So you’d set me ablaze with tenderness. I’d close my eyes. The flames will spread to my cheeks and to the rest of my hidden places. I would burn beautifully.
And you’d burn with me.
But not tonight.
Tonight is different.
Tonight we have an audience.
You call these people your family and friends. They all say they want nothing but the best for you, “Because you deserve all the happiness in the world,” “May you have many more years of love and happiness,” “Prosperity,” “A life of abundance,” “Everything you ever wanted,” are some of the toasts that are made in your honor.
Glasses clink. And that’s about it.
I cannot hug you for too long. I cannot play with that wristband in your arm. I can’t touch your lips like is the norm. I see you afraid to take ownership of my eyes even when I’m dying for you to. You won’t let me fold my hand into yours.
Instead of lighting that fire, burning me so that I wouldn’t know where I end and where you begin, your eyes look around the room instead. You drop my hand before it has the chance to send you my goosebumps. You step away and leave an inch too much between us.
You look anywhere but in my eyes.
You touch anything – you’re reaching for your phone now – but my hand. And my waist. And my lips. You touch anything but me.
They’re watching us. They’re dancing, watching us, bobbing their heads to the music, watching us, hugging each other, saying their hellos, watching us, talking about their studies, and their children, and their husbands and wives, and their corner offices, and this guy they met and that new neighbourhood they’ve just moved to. But they’re watching us.
And we’re giving them what they want. Which is definitely not what we want.
I can’t kiss you happy birthday. We shouldn’t have our hands around each other’s waists for too long. Who knows how long too long is? Some of them will say not at all.
My lips cannot quaver because you touched them. You should not be touching them. My heart shouldn’t beat so fast when I touch you. I should not be touching you like that. Our lips should never lock however much we believe that they were made to lock into each other. There should be no fire.
This crowd, this audience that loves you very much and wants you to find happiness will tell you that what we feel doesn’t qualify as love. This will suggest that love isn’t about what you feel but who you feel it for. Forget that I intend to adore you forever and a day. They drew a line. We ended up on the wrong side of that line.
What a shame. What a boring night. Normally, I would kiss you like my sanity depended on it.
And you would kiss me back.
And it would be magical.