Tell me a story... Some "thing" you love.
I've touched on this subject before but there is so much running around my head. Where to start, where to start?!
How about here:
And if my heart be scarred and burned,
The safer, I, for all I learned;
The calmer, I, to see it true
That ways of love are never new-
The love that sets you daft and dazed
Is every love that ever blazed;
The happier, I, to fathom this:
A kiss is every other kiss.
- Dorothy Parker, "from "Incurable"
And while I love Dorothy Parker, and while her writings make me think, make me laugh - my heart cries out "NO!" to this, and the romantic in me sobs "NO!" again. What "thing" do I love?
I love the kiss.
I love all kinds of kisses, actually. I love the sticky boy I Iove my mama kind and the first romantic kind. I love the kiss your girlfriend's tears away and the pressed up against the wall I have to have you kiss. Hello kisses. Goodbye kisses. No apparent reason kisses. Kisses from friends and kisses from family (my dad is rather reserved with his kisses - but he more than makes up for it with hugs. That's good too!) Tentative kisses. Urgent kisses. A kiss on the cheek. A kiss on the nose. Long kisses. Slow kisses. Real kisses. Movie kisses. Blown kisses, stolen kisses. Kisses with the promise of more...
Let's follow that one for a moment...
"The decision to kiss for the first time is the most crucial in any love story. It changes the relationship of two people much more strongly than even the final surrender; because this kiss already has within it that surrender."
- Emil Ludwig
Oh. I like that. I like that a lot. A kiss given is a gift presented, a promise made. And aren't all kisses a promise of more? More time, more of the same... more... pieces of ourselves. What I love about the kiss is the anticipation of the promise. The hopeful waiting, breath held, heart pounding ...
The kiss to me is the ultimate expression of love. It is an encapsulated moment, timeless and perfect. An experience to share, a memory to hold, a promise to be fulfilled.
Given all that, then this makes so much sense...
Oh! might I kiss those eyes of fire,
A million scarce would quench desire;
Still would I steep my lips in bliss,
And dwell an age on every kiss;
Nor then my soul should sated be,
Still would I kiss and cling to thee:
Nought should my kiss from thine dissever,
Still would we kiss and kiss for ever;
E'en though the numbers did exceed
The yellow harvest's countless seed;
To part would be a vain endeavour:
Could I desist?--ah! never--never.
- Lord (George Gordon) Byron, "Imitated from Catullus. To Ellen"