Remember the Kisses
One day, they would remember the crisp autumn wind, carrying dead leaves and a hint of winter, tangling red and black alike, until they were so mixed together, and crusted with dust and brown grass, that one was no longer distinguishable from two. Wind-blown and chapped, there remained rosy cheeks and swollen lips, fused together in a kiss so perfect that only the howling wind could separate.
Later, they would look back on the snow-encrusted memory of the fiery icicles of curls entwined in their counter-part of black. The mist from two mouths in the winter air mingling as one, sucking icy remnants of the other's atmosphere. Frozen in time, uninhibited by pain, death, and loss, the age old memory remains. Two heads, sharing a perfect kiss, separated only by a cold an unexpected flake of snow.
Maybe they would be able to recall the warm spring rain, the pleasant, hesitant sun, and the budding daffodils on every corner, as they walked hand-in-hand, head-to-head, sharing romantic secrets until the fierce orange of sunrise and deep blackness of midnight were plastered together by the rain, so totally and completely, that where the circle ended and began was unclear. The only awareness was that it centered upon the blossom in the middle, created by the perfect symmetry of lips, mixing his and hers and theirs and ours, until it was a tangled mess surrounded by a curtain of woven light and dark, with rain pouring all around.
The clearest of all would be the dry, hot heat of a windless summer, as they stood so close together that their bodies seemed not two, but one, uncaring of sweat and heat and still, musty air. It was as if they stayed long enough, loved hard enough, that they could absorb the other, melting together until there was no fire, no blackness, but simply the beating, breathing, living love that electrified the air around them with every kiss exchanged.
&
hmm?