That kiss and me - again

He smelled just the way I remembered, his arms strong around me, embracing me, holding me tightly, as if he was trying to save me from the world I was already so lost to. He whispered into my ear, something stupid, it tickled and I felt how I unwilling smiled, how my tense face turned soft for a minute. I tried to get under his skin, to get closer; I wanted to be the soap that my nose was detecting on his skin. My hands found the gap between the shirt and the jeans and I let them edge under, to reach the warm and soft skin on his back. I wanted to dig my short manicured nails into skin back, leave a mark. Anchor him in my world; make him my anchor, so I never could drift away. He tilted his head and gazed on me.

 I felt reality hit me, pumping thru my veins was overpowered by an intense feeling that I belonged, belonged in those arms, in this minute, that my world could be his world, or rather our world.

The memory of pale morning lights in a kitchen far away, a casual breakfast hit my brain. Me as a child having toasted bread with jam and an abundance of butter, being home. This moment was just like that, as if I was sinking my teeth into buttered toasted bread and jam, delightful and satisfying.

His t-shirt was simply white and detergent lingered in the fabric that stretched over his chest. My eyes locked with him and he saw me, really tried at least. My eyes as blue as the lake in the summer, black make-up artfully smeared around eyes that were dry even when I wanted to cry. He leaned over and kissed me gently, I felt lips so soft it sent shocks down my spine, I could taste the salt on his lips, from the sweat that now was drying on our bodies, I could feel how my body just pressed itself a little closer, how he reacted by intensifying the kiss, I was plastered to his body, wanting to get away but paralyzed by desire and shock. Saying he had me at hello would be a lie, but I was his for this moment and hours to come.