Kiss

As he touched the hair falling on my forehead, I closed my eyes. Very slowly, he moved his fingers around my hair line and I felt every movement of his middle finger rolling on my face. He pulled my face towards his to kiss. I don’t know if he had opened his eyes, but I didn’t, probably not wanting to mix the questionable prudence in reality. I know, we see more with the closed eyes. As I felt his breath around my face, I smelt the beer he had last night. In every breath of his, lied an untold story of equal loneliness and greater impatience.

He squeezed my shoulders in his fists and kissed them, and shoved off all the burdensome questions that kept my mind busy.

He filled his fingers in the gap between my fingers, pulling me towards me and re-illumined my dying spark. He put his hand on my heart and the bleeding from the painful wounds stopped.  

He touched my back with his palm, and for a moment, I realized what leap my life could take only if a man was there to support it forever. He continued to move fingers on my back bone as if trying to wake up the sleeping desires I buried years ago.

He kissed my lips and with a thud I got back what I had lost…I touched my own life. I felt like a woman..

And without asking me to open my eyes, he showed me how much he wanted to open my eyes, get up from the dream and make him real.