I hope that someday, somebody wants to hold you for twenty minutes straight, and that’s all they do. They don’t pull away. They don’t look at your face. They don’t try to kiss you. All they do is wrap you up in their arms, without an ounce of selfishness in it.
Jenna, Waitress
She spends her morning cataloging all the types of kisses she’s known.
There are kisses that leave you breathless.
They are: the end of the movie type kisses; the finally, finally, I’ve waited so long for this kisses; the blood pounding in your ears and stars in your eyes type kisses; the type of kisses that wrap you up and make the world disappear and make you think oh, i hope we kiss this way forever.
There are kisses that are a promise of something more.
They are: often chaste, but followed up by lustful eyes and wet lips; quick, insistent, delivered through hooded eyes; or else, long and languid, trailing off slowly, confidently.
There are kisses for goodbye we’ll see each other soon, kisses for hello i’ve missed you, kisses when your body and mind are spent, content, flushed.
But what she really wants is not a kiss, wet and wanting, but a sign of love that’s not asking for anything.
She wants an assurance that the kiss is not the thing they’re after, after all, nor the things that come after kisses.
She wants the love that loves without expectation, love that stands still for its own sake. A love that sees her, and not the things she can offer in its stead.
Navel Gazing 