30 October 2012
How about coming over to my house? Nothing special of course. I could come meet you at your place before the darkness sets in. By your window, waiting, you'd be. Then you'd spot me coming over the snow covered hill and come running with a smile so pretty it would make my knees tremble. You would probably slip and fall into a snow pile and I would, without a doubt, laugh my lungs out. When finished laughing I'd help you up and most likely push you down again. Out of love of course. You'd be mad at me. But only until I'd lay down beside you and force you to kiss me, lovingly.
By now it would already be dark. So we'd get up and walk slowly towards my house, taking the long way home. Oh right, we'd be holding hands as well.
You'd be really freezing cold by time we were halfway home so I'd speed up to get in front of you. You'd watch me skeptically as big snowflakes would start falling around us. I'd turn around, wrap my arms around you tightly and kiss you as we'd sway slowly back and forth, under the warm shine of the streetlights, to the rhythm of our heartbeats.
We'd fall into another pile of snow because our knees would be to week to keep us standing up. There we'd lay for a while and catch snowflakes on our tongues while talking, with only vocals the way you do at the dentist, about the future. About your chocolate shop and other dreams. I'd consider telling you that you are my only dream. But I'd probably decide not to because of the cheesiness.
Again we'd get up and continue to walk, with our bodies as close together as they can be while walking. At last we'd walk through the tunnel created by the branches weighted down by the snow. And there my house would be, the way it always is.
Inside, I'd warm two big cups of hot chocolate with whip cream and cinnamon. Then I'd remember you're not fond of hot chocolate. But I'd give it to you anyway for you to warm your hands. We'd lay down in the sofa, cuddle up with blankets and watch a slow paced love film, not really concentrating on it as much as on each other.
At this time we'd most likely have a sudden craving for blueberry pie. You'd be all tired and almost sleeping. Don't worry though, I'd get you up by intensively tickling your feet. You would fake sleep but your almost unnoticeable smile would give you away as always.
With the Beatles playing on the radio we'd dance around the kitchen while making the most amazing blueberry pie. I would probably dance you straight into the oven door where you'd hit your head. We'd fall to the ground, laughing. There we'd lay as I'd pull my fingers through your hair and you'd write with your finger something on my chest. I'd try to kiss you but you'd turn your head and then look at me with an annoyingly cute grin.
We'd eat the blueberry pie with ice cream, sitting on the windowsill with our legs wrapped around each other in something that might look like a pretzel. We'd sit there for a long time watching the snow fall outside the window, signing along with the songs on the radio. I'd lean forward to kiss you but just as before you wouldn't let me. So I'd lift you up effortlessly and carry you away to my room, despite your halfhearted attempts to escape. I'd throw you in my bed and try to kiss you over and over without succeeding. You'd throw pillows at me, try to wrestle me down and tickle me several times. Every time it would end up in me holding you and kissing every part of your neck, working my way to your lips. But every time I'd reach them you'd turn away.
Eventually we'd get tired and your head would rest on my chest. I would feel how your mouth forms a smile and I would feel your warm skin against mine.
Then you'd turn your head and kiss me, gently. Your soft lips against mine as we'd drift in to sleep.
So yeah, nothing special. What do you say?
Kiss Me? • Opuss № I