Just now I'm remembering perishingly cold winter evenings, Monday evenings, when this boy and I used to wander round a small deserted shopping centre. We would stop to kiss in the doorway of the chip shop, the frozen air holding us as our icy lips touched, then as we kissed our lips burning, radiating heat. The memory of the exquisite pleasure of the extreme temperatures. Those kisses so amazing that I feel my lips tingling as I recall them.
This year I received Christmas greetings from two old boyfriends. The first to in the form of a long email (not heard from him for a couple of years), the second a short greeting (not heard from him for more than a couple of decades) - Best Wishes, M...... X. I like the X, the kiss. I take it as a testament to our long ago relationship. I think it means he has fond memories of it, as do I. I think it might mean he's not mad at me any more. That X, that kiss reminds me of the real kisses. The man, or teen-age boy as he was then, had a talent for kissing. He was the best. Really.
2007-02-19 @ 13:23