that spark

my hands absorb the cold from the steering wheel. i crank up the heat but before my fingers can warm up, the rest of my body reaches that uncomfortable toasty stage. i squirm in the driver's seat and resort to cold hands on the steering wheel.

and this is all fine and dandy but the point is, i miss that separate pair of hands to warm up my own.

i believe love is rooted in your soul, or rather, in the connection of souls. although led astray for some years by disney, i realized {through personal experience} that love is not in a kiss. {my conclusion came by a host of anecdotes, but time is limited and my pillow is seducing me}.



when you kiss to be kissed, you feel the other person with your skin. you muse about the way your lips meet theirs and possibly contemplate the amount of germs being transmitted. it's logical and chemical.

but when you kiss to share yourself without reserve, every nerve ending is on fire. your bones ache with happiness and the idea of breathing seems inconsequential. as lips collide you inhale the perfection of the moment while memorizing their taste, pulling them closer still. your eyelashes flutter to ensure that you are not dreaming but this magic is real.
it is beyond logic. it is passion. it is sweet and lovely. 

merely interlocking fingers sparks my nerve endings. i miss that spark.
and let's be honest, i really miss the kissing. but not just the act of kissing-- i miss the magic and love behind the kiss. the trouble is, once you feel that spark... nothing else suffices.

i miss someone warming up my cold hands. 

but mostly i miss him sitting next to me.