Casanova is his name.
The name I gave him, a form of existence.
At least for me.
If there is a deeper meaning to it, I don’t know.
Which is the end of it.
Casanova I have been calling him, although he is rejecting this name.
Which makes sense to me.
We all know what they are after and with him neglecting this name it is even growing more on him.
He is that kind.
However the story starts just there.
Not the way of perceiving, talking to me or the way his eyes have been checking me out.
And I can understand.
I am a tasteful cookie, walking around like Bambi.
But the taste of my kiss, that started to understand this kind of attraction.
At least for me.
He is one of a kind and I like him to be.
The feeling is mutual.
I didn’t mind he could have a taste.
Perhaps even of his own medicine.
His kiss tells me a lot.
His mind isn’t wandering off, busy with things he shouldn’t.
The contrary.
Focused he is.
Watching his prey, treating it with kindness.
Speaking the words softly and gently.
Like he means it.
And he does, he knows quite well.
A show I like to participate in.
I am letting him do what he does best.
How he touches my hand and takes me to places he thinks to make that move.
A built up in time and space, where he is in control.
Masculine even.
I am enjoying every moment of it.
The way he knows how he needs to behave, to cord me.
Understands the words to speak and even lets his guard down just for a bit.
I think it is all part of his plan.
I fall for it, even if it is just for a second.
To be in his world.
Because who the prey is, is not just a question.
It goes both ways.
A collector of kisses is what I’d like to call myself.
And so I am hunting for that.
To abstract what he can’t tell me with his lips.
Who kiss me slowly.
His lips speak kindly to me, like he cares and persists to understand what it is I need.
I am letting it happen, with every single fiber of my body.
Slow is the process of the hunter.
Watching what needs to happen.
To get what he deserves, or at least what he believes.
Which is the match we are making.
Both going after what we are wanting.
To kiss Casanova is not for the faint hearted.
A kind of woman he likes, I can understand.
To continue that beat of his heart.
A rhythm only he understands.
As I listen to that kind of tune, I can’t help but wonder.
How lonely that must be.
However, I can’t blame him.
The pond of women who fall for that trap are huge.
And so he lives on as Casanova.
That kind of mask he likes to wear.
It makes me sad at the same time.
No words to express truly.
Which makes me notice his kiss even more.
He does mean it when he kisses me.
“I hope to meet you one day and be happy that I have met you”.
One of the first things he said to me.
To make notice what he wants, to lay ground what he is after.
What it truly holds I can’t really say.
It is the mystery of what Casanova holds.
Perhaps he doesn’t even know himself.
The words alone are enough to make me find out.
Another experience I’d like to add to find that kiss, that belongs to me.
Perhaps even intended for me to continue.
Since that is the beat of my heart.
“I hope so too”, is all I could say to him.