You kissed me,
and it tasted like poetry.

These are lines from my poetry book, lines that resonate with me, that bring me back to a specific time, a specific place. These are lines that pull at the veins and arteries in my heart, aching.

It’s funny how even after time, I remember exactly what I was thinking about when I wrote that phrase. How soft my lips opened, welcoming love in. I’ve always been so quick to believe in love, to chase it. I was always willing to dance around the idea of someone being my forever, even when I wasn’t sure the depth of that word quite yet.

I’m years and thousands of miles from that kiss, but still, the sentiment remains.

It’s beautiful when you find someone whose mouth feels right pressed to yours. When you get wrapped up in an embrace, so much so, that you hear lines of text in your head.

When we kiss, I hear poetry. 

I did then, and even now, I still remember how it felt for the words to write themselves in my head.

And perhaps not because that person was my forever, but because I believed in the possibility.

In this life, that’s all you can guarantee—your faith in the difficult, impermanent moments.

Your choice to say, ‘yes,’ close your eyes, and let your lips speak.