Asphyxiation

It was just a kiss. And kissing is never a big deal to me. So why can I think of nothing else but that kiss? The feeling of his hand on my cheek? His hand on my waist? His lips against mine? Why am I so overcome by it that I cannot even stand to be away from him? That every moment apart I get restless and antsy? I want desperately for another kiss? Even now? Weeks after the fact? It was just a kiss! Kissing is never a big deal to me.

My first kiss was with a man 9 years older than me. I was just 19 and he was 28. He kissed me in my own car, in a church parking lot at that. He made out with me. It was awkward but I liked him. But afterwards, I didn't miss it. I thought kissing strange. Like kissing two slugs. It was not on my list of things I enjoy. So, to me, kissing was not a big deal. To me, hugging was bigger. Being close to them and feeling their heartbeat, the breath quicken or slow. Feeling their hand in yours. That was bigger and more important, bringing two people closer together. But after this kiss... I don't even know now.

It was for a play, after all. It shouldn't even be real. But it was easier for us to just kiss instead of choreographing a fake one. We just decided to go real. And we did. And he came in, not to quickly, not grinning, not to slow, nothing off0-- he came in, gently placed his hand on my cheek and jaw and kissed me gently. It was short and sweet. It was amazing. And I was so surprised I forgot to do my next piece of blocking, which was to slap him. Followed by my kissing him.

So I slapped him. And, being in character, I laughed and cupped my hand on the back of his neck. I plac my other hand on his neck and jaw and pulled him in. And I gave him a passionate, yet short, kiss. And after that? We had to do the scene again.

Anticipation was as plentiful as blood in my small frame. Adrenaline raced through me, hurrying as a race track. My heart sped so unbelievably, I felt everyone could see it making my chest pound. And he kissed me again, this time longer, more lovingly. It was precious. It was treasured. And I couldn't even breathe. And when I kissed him, I felt like I was telling him I loved him. It would have been strange if I hadn't known him for years already. If I hadn't already sort of maybe a little bit had feelings for him. But there were feelings. There were memories. And I was kissing him.

My heart never quite beat normally after that. The remainder of the night, I was in a daze, lost in a high spurred by kisses and gentle hands.

Even now, weeks later, the sight of him makes me spin. His touch drowns me. I can hardly breathe. But if breathing is being without him...

I'd choose asphyxiation.