14 September 2000

Warm lips.

We're beautifully cheesy, like those moments in a movie where you're yelling at the screen that things like that don't happen in real life.

But sometimes they do.

And just like the movies, no one is watching, but the people involved.

Melting away with honeymoon bliss like icecream on a honey glazed day of sunshine.

Sometimes Jeff and I have these moment to ourselves, where it's just us. And it's not a moment frozen in lust or anything like that. But it's watching tv, him tickling my toes not even knowing he's doing anything, unaware that we both are constantly desiring to touch each other, get closer.

We want to feel. Our warmth, our bodies beside each other. Breathing, heart beating. We could spend seven hours just sitting on a couch together, not saying or doing anything worthwhile or of importance, and somehow it's time well spent.

And last night as I kissed at you playfully, my lips pressed up outside against the window of the passenger window, skipping away laughing at our silliness, i loved how you called me back over. I loved how you didn't say a word, but you took my hand when i got close to your door, and you pulled my face down to yours, still holding on to me, on to one last real kiss before I went inside. And even afterwards no words were necessary because we both held that dumb glazed smile on our faces that spelled it out to all.

Did you know I almost always end up walking in my house, feeling like that after saying goodbye to you?