(no subject)
Enjoy this final ficlet of the summer. *cries*
Glisten.
She is my first kiss, but she doesn’t know this. My eyes are open when she leans forward and I am too shocked to close them before she lands. I am staring at a beautiful Cyclops, and when she pulls away, I have to remind myself to uncross my eyes. She has no idea the impact her lips have had on my vision, on my pulse, no idea that my heart races for the first time, races and pounds for the lips and love of a woman. She turns quickly, a shyness in her eyes, and she walks towards Gate 29A, never looking back. I only catch her in profile as she passes through security, when she looks over her shoulder, and I catch the shine of her lips, still flushed and glistening pink from our kiss. She licks her lips, and they seem new to me; not just pink, but the color of the edge of sunset. Maybe sunrise. Though she isn’t looking at me, she smiles, and I realize that I’m smiling, too. Her smile seems new to me, and mine feels strange, foreign. I’ve never smiled after a kiss before. This is what happiness must feel like, I think, though I’ve never really been unhappy. She has given me something new, something I didn’t realize I’d ever been without, and I’m still smiling, and so is she, though she’s looking the other way. She turns her head, and she passes through the metal detectors without so much as a blip, and even the way she walks is new to me, poetry in every step. I want to follow her, but I’m stuck in this cloud of romantic clichés she’s left me in, dazed and disoriented and daffy with love. Is it love? It’s foreign, as foreign as apple pie and the Fourth of July, but somehow I think I know. This is no ordinary woman, and this is no ordinary feeling. My mind struggles to make a connection between the tingle in my toes and something I’ve known before - a hopeless grade school crush, the rush of a Pagini Zonda C12-S 7.3 test drive, a genuinely good veggie-burger - but I’m coming up short. I want to follow her, I want her to teach me more about love, tell me that this is what this is, but she’s gone, gone for two weeks, and I know I’ll have to wait for more. I tell myself I can handle that, but I’m feeling uncharacteristically impatient - already, and she’s not even boarded the plane! Is this crazy? Is this love? How would I know? But I’m still smiling, smiling just like a hopeless romantic fool out of one of her movies, and somehow I think I know.
Glisten.
She is my first kiss, but she doesn’t know this. My eyes are open when she leans forward and I am too shocked to close them before she lands. I am staring at a beautiful Cyclops, and when she pulls away, I have to remind myself to uncross my eyes. She has no idea the impact her lips have had on my vision, on my pulse, no idea that my heart races for the first time, races and pounds for the lips and love of a woman. She turns quickly, a shyness in her eyes, and she walks towards Gate 29A, never looking back. I only catch her in profile as she passes through security, when she looks over her shoulder, and I catch the shine of her lips, still flushed and glistening pink from our kiss. She licks her lips, and they seem new to me; not just pink, but the color of the edge of sunset. Maybe sunrise. Though she isn’t looking at me, she smiles, and I realize that I’m smiling, too. Her smile seems new to me, and mine feels strange, foreign. I’ve never smiled after a kiss before. This is what happiness must feel like, I think, though I’ve never really been unhappy. She has given me something new, something I didn’t realize I’d ever been without, and I’m still smiling, and so is she, though she’s looking the other way. She turns her head, and she passes through the metal detectors without so much as a blip, and even the way she walks is new to me, poetry in every step. I want to follow her, but I’m stuck in this cloud of romantic clichés she’s left me in, dazed and disoriented and daffy with love. Is it love? It’s foreign, as foreign as apple pie and the Fourth of July, but somehow I think I know. This is no ordinary woman, and this is no ordinary feeling. My mind struggles to make a connection between the tingle in my toes and something I’ve known before - a hopeless grade school crush, the rush of a Pagini Zonda C12-S 7.3 test drive, a genuinely good veggie-burger - but I’m coming up short. I want to follow her, I want her to teach me more about love, tell me that this is what this is, but she’s gone, gone for two weeks, and I know I’ll have to wait for more. I tell myself I can handle that, but I’m feeling uncharacteristically impatient - already, and she’s not even boarded the plane! Is this crazy? Is this love? How would I know? But I’m still smiling, smiling just like a hopeless romantic fool out of one of her movies, and somehow I think I know.