All I want is just an innocent press of fingertips to my face, a light kiss, and a smile. That’s it.
I don’t want the gritty feel of sex or blow jobs or anything like that, just a sweeter-than-sugar kiss. It can be better than anything, sending shivers all over, it can be good.
I want it like cool lemonade in summer, sun bright red and blinding. I want it like a butterfly that stops on your bare knee when you lay in the grass, and you don’t move because it’s beautiful and so fragile and quiet and wise-looking in its prettiness. I want it like a sunset photo every day at the top of the hill. I want it like my grandmother used to teach me piano in her small apartment, her fingers long and wrinkled next to my small pudgy hands. I want it like the first day it’s snowed all year, and it’s Saturday and all you have to do is read. I want it like a new canvas, blank and breathing and beautiful, letting shapes spill out from your own mind. I want it like sunrise coloring the white walls of school a pale yellow. I want it like the vines that curl lovingly around a tree that’s old but tall.
Something untarnished by anything, bright and gold and shining. It can stay that way forever, just light fingertips and a tiny, hugging love in your heart. Palms pressed close and warm, and fingers threaded, and that’s it, that’s all.
An unjustified love that can just exist, and never be blotted away by time or commitment.
Will you? Just one small, bright moment of forever?