Not Kissing You

It has been a number days since we were sitting in Parc la Fountaine, since I read you that story, since you offered me a lychee fruit and since you said “I think that went very well, like your French the other day”. When you smiled after that, we were standing a few feet from each other and I immediately regretted not kissing you while we were sitting on the grass beside each other. I was not afraid. Please don’t think that. I had had breath that was marred by too much coffee and spoiled by afternoon beer and although there was more than one perfect moment to do so, I did not want our first kiss to leave the memory of that taste that was in my mouth… now...well, now, I continue to think about the sun that snuck from behind the clouds to punctuate the pause in that perfect moment, the claw marks left by your cat on your inner thigh, the gentle way your bangs blew into your face and the feeling of wanting to hold you close.