Self Image

Quivering Lips.

“Love, which
quickly arrests the gentle heart,

Seized him with my beautiful form
That was taken from me, in a manner which
still grieves me.
Love, which pardons
no beloved from loving,
Took me so strongly
with delight in him
That, as you see, it still abandons me not…”
Dante Alighieri

There is great power in words. We’ve heard it before; the power of
the tongue, talk the talk. We have attached such importance to words; with good
cause of course, that even though we do not know it, words are the axis that
our worlds revolve on. But then there are kisses. Born from the same entity,
born with the same intentions…to perfect the ignition that the words begun on
my heart.
There are days when we know not where the kisses will lead. So we lie
there; still and content. We drown in the silence born from the soft sound of
our breathing. Your scent clings to me…a reenactment of our dance. We are in
a world, away from the world. In this moment, reality is agreeable. We are
simpatico, expecting nothing but giving everything. Then you lose yourself…the way
I do with words, and in this moment we are beyond identities. You release my
lips only to share a smile. To remind me not to run off to the corners of my
mind because you need every bit of me here.  And I am here. I notice the smudge of lipstick
on your left cheek and wipe it off. For that, my trembling hands earn a kiss. The
adoration in your eyes is not lost on me. So I squirm under your weight,
desperate to hide my blushing smile. But you know, you always know. I said
nothing, yet you knew. You teach me that kisses are not just reserved for lips.
You teach my nose, my neck and that little spot in between my eyes. The eyes
that betray me, saying “I am worried that words will break the spell but
really, I am worried that I could ever distrust words.” So we allow a momentary
whisper. I waste mine on “buts” and you righteously spend yours on my name. And
what would a kiss be without a touch. Not of your lips on mine, but of your
hands. The hands that trace the lines of my smile and gently caress my cheek. The
hands that circle over the scar on my back in an attempt to heal me. Signed,
sealed and delivered…the kisses do not promise tomorrow, they immortalise today.
“Is this not the kiss that woke Snow White, because after this, I surely cannot
remember any others.” says the little girl within. But this is not happily ever
after. It is now. Soon, he will go. He will leave with pieces of me, and I remain
with the taste of his lips. I traded kisses for words for he kissed me and left
me reborn. “I regret nothing. I cherish this. I am still me.” I say this as I let
the memories linger.
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  • Reply Joan Nyangoma March 18, 2013 at 1:48 pm

    KIRABO:)!!!!!!!!i am even shy after reading this post..

  • Reply Nora Kirabo March 24, 2013 at 6:22 pm

    Don't be…go kiss someone, and ENJOY it 🙂

  • Reply Alynne Leigh March 29, 2013 at 4:30 pm

    A sweet friend shared your writing on Google+, where I saw it.

    You have a gift! (:

  • Reply Nora Kirabo March 30, 2013 at 6:41 am

    That truly is a sweet friend 🙂
    Thank you so much!

  • Reply Patricia May 14, 2016 at 7:37 pm

    Terrific! I like

    • Reply Nora Kirabo May 15, 2016 at 4:14 pm

      Thank you Patricia 🙂

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