Memory

It sneaks up on me. The day seems to going along, and then it is there. A thought that I have thought I have buried in my brain, resurfaces, like some mythic sea monster, raising from the murky depths.

Very dramatic, yes? Or possibly, melodramatic. Either way, it comes back. That description. A simple description of a kiss that broke my heart.

In my mind's eye, who's vision is not 20/20 by any means, I see you with her. Your hand on her hip pulling her close. The other cupping her cheek delicately. Every movement is careful and precise. My mind fills in the various blanks. How your lips must have felt across hers. How her breath must have caught. How she more than likely relaxed against you slowly, melting from the contact.

Its as if I feel your reactions. I feel your mind blank as you taste her for the first time. I assume that she tastes sweet. I feel your body hard against her. Gentle and hard at the same time. This is when it is difficult to know you so well. To know how excited you are, how this is a fantasy fulfilled for you, and yet it is more.

It is as if I am standing there, watching. Tears streaming down my face while I watch you treat her kindly, with gentleness, and generosity. And I know, that part of you, loves it. You love those tears. Tears that come from torment. They excite you.

Yet I wasn't there. In reality, I am so far from there. But, I could have been a world away, and I would have still felt it as deeply. And the memory comes back to me at odd times. Standing in a line, possibly. Or driving.

You've pointed out how we do not/cannot compare. And it has become my mantra over the days when I've tried to erase this memory. Each time that memory creeps back in, it hurts. Maybe not as much as on the first telling, but hurts all the same. Soon, I hope, as the mantra becomes rote, it will cease to hurt.

Yet when it does, I'll still be the one wishing it had been my kiss.