i exist [as the definition of nonexistence]

clinging to daydreams like saran wrap

  Our first kiss was feather soft and public, so public I thought maybe God could see us, and I wondered what he thought. We were innocent, but not, bubbly like champagne and smiling against smiling lips.

Our last kiss was razor sharp and public, so public I could feel Lucifer weaving his fingers through my hair and driving me closer to you like a crash test car, could feel something made of barbed wire tying us together in the best wine-drunk way.

But, oh, all of those kisses in between.

Those secret kisses, fast and simple but enough to start a tsunami inside my heart. My fingers tangled in your hair and your nose bumping against mine as you smiled, and kept smiling, a smile so wide it engulfed the entire world.

Those sleepy kisses on long car rides, tucked away where the others couldn't see us, the thump of your heart lulling me to sleep. Your fingers playing across my skin like a piano, ethereal promises murmured silently against my mouth

Those rough brick wall kisses, my lips rubbed raw and your eyes so gold I was sure I was Midas come to life, turning you into a beautiful, ravaged statue to keep all for myself.

Those kisses that never happened, locked away in a bedroom I built inside my head: your lips on my collarbones, my thighs, your teeth grazing every inch of me that I hated, devouring me until I was something to be desired. You on the counter with brownie batter on your face and I could have sworn the sun rose and set in your eyes, the way you licked your lip before pulling me in like the black hole you were.

Those kisses that end with a knife to my gut, and he's smiling at me, and you're walking away and "I love you but I don't love me" and paranoia and anxiety and dark dark dark–

Those are the worst kisses, because they always feel like the best