His Lips

His lips are like fire on my skin—passionate, possessive. The flames are closing in and there is nowhere to escape—and I'm not sure I want to. The heat is overwhelming. The fumes are intoxicating. And soon I know I'll start to swoon. But I don't care. Because I know he'll catch me if I fall.

My cheeks are flushed. The blood is racing. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest. I know it's all an act and yet it somehow feels so real—his touch, his scent, his sweet caress. And I can't help but wonder what it might take like to kiss those lips—those misshapen, malformed lips that once seemed so repulsive.

Would his kiss taste like wine?—No, no! That's too refined!—My Angel is rough around the edges—broken wings and broken dreams and broken hearts. More like rum—sweet on the tongue but it burns within your chest.

Burning, burning, everything is burning! The opera house is burning!

Why, Christine? Why?

And the question is burning in my mind. I don't know why. And I don't know who. Who do I choose? How can I choose when they both mean the world to me?

But he makes the decision for me. Now the fire is in his eyes and in his words—dripping hatred, oozing poison—kerosene to fuel the flames. The roof is caving in. The world is falling apart—falling embers all around us. But my eyes are on him and now my heart is beating faster than ever. I am so afraid—afraid because I know that this kiss will seal our fate. It is the final nail in the coffin, the final chance to say goodbye—though I do not know whether it is my childhood or my future that I am bidding farewell.

And then our lips brush and our hands touch and I can feel his heart racing even faster than mine. Soft at first, like angel's wings. He seems so unsure. And for a moment, I think he's even more frightened than I am. He pulls back, but I pull him closer. I don't know why. It just feels right. And the kiss deepens and I can feel the flames licking at my skin. It's killing me but I want more. I know where I belong and that is in his arms. The fire is gone now, the fervent flames reduced to ash—ashen like countenance. The rain has come—a soft spring rain, the kind that comes even when the sun is shining. His bloated lips are curled up in a smile, but I can hardly tell it through his tears.

Go! Go now, and leave me! Leave me here to die alone. Leave while my heart is still in one piece—because if you stay too long, I know I'll never be able to let you go.

I feel my own heart torn in two. I cannot leave, yet I know that I must go. And so I leave you with this ring—this promise that I will return, for my heart belongs to you.

Goodbye, my love, I almost say. But I catch myself and bite my tongue. Whenever you think of me, I hope that it is only with the fondest memories.

I love his lips because his kiss makes the world stop turning.