“Kiss me,” she said.
He’d do it, he thought, but not just in the usual way, because her mouth inspired him to kiss her in the way some people make love.
He kissed her like a hummingbird kisses the early morning dew. He kissed her like the ocean kisses a long forgotten shore. He kissed her like the moonlight kisses the dark forest floor.
He kissed her in the lonely places, where she kept abandoned dreams.
He kissed her in the angry places, where life had taken its toll. He kissed her where she’d splintered and cracked and fallen weeping to the floor.
He kissed her softly to the sanguine beat of her jaggedly broken heart. He kissed her with a wicked heat, setting her on fire. He kissed her slowly. He kissed her hard.
He brought forth the moans that rarely left her mouth. He kissed her, leaving spaces where she needed to draw breath. He kissed her where the embers of her soul fire burned.
Awakened to her needs, he kissed her into safety.
To kiss a girl, one must leave expectations behind and find her mouth uncharted and wild. To kiss a girl one must find softness within oneself, then taking that softness to her, feed her the nectar of ecstasy—one drop at a time. To kiss a girl one must offer their darkness without apology and, joining hers, leave her lips bruised with passion.
To kiss a girl is to know where seasons go, where life ebbs and flows, where the birds migrate when the sun no longer warms the land.
To kiss a girl is to know all things.
© Monika Carless @ How to Kiss a Girl. | elephant journal
Follow me on Instagram @ monikacarless.author