Kiss

Talk. Stare. Hand touch.

Kiss.

Blush. Smile. Wink.

Kiss.

Run my hand through his hair...

Where did I go? It's been three weeks and I've forgotten I had a life before this guy.

Friends? Appointments? Things I wanted to do? I should do them...

Kiss.

I need to do them! Stop Buggering around and Get out of it ya' mongrel! I'm getting my face pashed off and with the pashing comes the forgetting, comes the bliss of relationship adrenaline, comes the "I'll do it tomorrow".

Pash. [Pa-shh.] Verb. To passionately make-out with someone. Which is what I can't seem to stop doing.

When we first met we agreed kissing in public was disgusting and we'd not subject New Yorkers to the sight.

Whoops.

Kiss.

My dad asked if I've hit any red lights with the Musician. Any bumps? Red flags? Things he's done that make you second guess? Nope.

I went onto Facebook and looked at my old crush. He seemed distant. Fuzzy. And my mind threw a blanket over him and I flipped to a picture of my boyfriend and I and I... sigh because my god this is what cocaine feels like.

Kiss. All I want to do is Kiss.

And Talk. Discuss. Chat. Laugh. Be disgusting on the train. Both groan over the ooze of cheese that seems to be created when we sit and stare into each other's eyes and the world goes away and suddenly it's all... gone.

Kiss. Watch. Repeat.