It was already a long time ago I was kissed.
Nervous, I was just a little.
Perhaps for what was coming after a bit more.
A memory I’d like to keep and I felt there was something more to it.
Perhaps just to be kissed, a feeling of matter.
A kiss I kissed and it felt different than other times.
That kiss is still on my lips, although I gave it to him.
It was definitely something which belonged to me.
Where I believe the meaning of a kiss can say a lot.
What we want and desire.
Where we like to keep it, or hold on to.
For whatever sake that might be.
But when it comes to that kiss.
Where it stayed there and then.
On my lips and my mind as a memory.
Now written on this paper.
For me to understand.
It is the taste of that kiss which made me want more.
Not just in sexual sense or with that intent.
But more I realized something about myself.
A story I once heard, about a frog that was a prince.
Only a princess’ kiss would make him come back. For him to become his true self again.
Ofcourse there is more to the story.
Perhaps a punishment he received which turned him ugly as a frog.
People would run away from the appearance he had become, after that spell from the witch.
Poor prince, I have to say.
But the kiss I gave had nothing to do with that.
It didn’t make me wonder if that person I was kissing was a frog.
In the hypothetical sense, you know what I mean.
I already knew he wasn’t a prince.
A Casanova he is.
How I called him, due to his actions and the words he said.
‘I would like to remember you one day and I am happy I met you’, he said to me.
Where I take what I want and feel good for me in that moment. To abstract his kiss, what he can’t tell me with his words.
That is where I was kissing Casanova.
Somewhere on a wooden bench.
Trees were surrounding us, giving us shade from the sun.
Perhaps even protecting us a little bit from people passing by.
Where I understood my kiss meant so much more.
It was the epiphany my kiss can go places, not just on the lips of Casanova.
Casanova is a handsome guy and he knows it.
Speaks with the tongue girls understand.
Where he gets what he wants.
For some a trap, where tears are shed.
Something which makes the heart of Casanova beat.
‘I am different from them’, I told Casanova.
Perhaps even expressed in that kiss I gave him.
I called him Casanova long before we kissed.
And touched.
My kiss will stay on my lips, for me to kiss someone receptive to it.
If he is ugly I don’t know, like a frog.
Since I haven’t met him.
Yet or still.
The story of the kiss and the frog involves a prince.
Where the kiss of the princess would do wonders to the one she kisses.
A kiss which can turn those events who sometimes feel unfortunate to us.
To bring us back on the beaten path.
Which to me is the moral of the story of ‘The Prince and the frog’.
To come back at that realization I was having, after giving my kiss.
I am not a princess.
I can not turn someone into a prince, change him into someone he is not.