In search of that one kiss, I am finding myself a bit perplexed.
Perhaps because of what I was thinking.
A realization even.
It could be.
Casanova is his name.
Or at least I am giving him that name.
A form of existence.
At least according to me.
If there is a deeper meaning to it.
I don’t know.
And that is the end of that.
Casanova I have been calling him, although he is rejecting this name.
And that makes sense to me.
We all know what they are after and with him neglecting this name it is even growing more.
On him.
That he is that kind.
Nothing to explain that further.
I think you can imagine it yourself.
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.
That he is one of a kind and I like him to be.
Just that.
The feeling is mutual.
Or at least how it started for me.
I didn’t mind that he could have a taste.
Perhaps even of his own medicine.
Not that I want to hurt him.
But his kiss tells me a lot.
Not that his mind is wandering off.
Busy with things he shouldn’t.
The contrary.
Focused he is.
Watching his prey and 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.
Masculine it is even.
That he touches my hand and takes me to places that he thinks to make that move.
A built up in time and space.
Where he is in control.
And that is attractive.
Nothing less than that.
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.
And 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 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 that speak kindly to me, like he cares and persists to understand what it is I need.
And I am letting it happen.
With every single fiber of my body.
Slow is the process of the hunter that watches what needs to happen.
To get what he deserves.
Or at least what he believes.
And that is the match we are making.
Both going after what we are wanting.
To kiss Casanova is not for the soft hearted.
A kind of woman he likes.
I understand.
To continue that beat of his heart.
A rhythm only he understands.
But 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 that fall in 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 that truly.
And that makes me notice his kiss even more.
He does mean it when he kisses me.
With all his heart.
‘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 it is 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 like to add to find that kiss that belongs to me.
Perhaps even intended for me to continue.
As that is the beat of my heart.
‘I hope so too’. Is all I could say to him.