I could live here…
Just right here. In these arms…
The arms that taught me the difference.
The difference between the real McCoy and all the rest….
Wrapped so tightly I can feel her pulsing heart beats directly on my chest.
Her cheek pressed against my ear blocking out the rest of the world.
Silencing everything, except the rise and fall of her breath.
With each inhale my lungs fill with the smell of her incredibly soft, ancient, vanilla powdery skin.
She kisses me.
And kisses me
And kisses me some more.
She kisses me with such conviction.
A conviction that makes me doubt her intentions.
These aren’t the casual grandma kisses of vacation good byes.
These kisses are her legacy if need be.
Her gifts….
Her gifts of just in case.
Kisses that want me to remember, that want to be set apart from all the rest.
Kisses that want to take a piece of me with her and leave all of her behind.
Kisses that say nothing but speak volumes.
Kisses that bring tears to my eyes.
Kisses that I fear may be the last of all kisses.
