The Distance Makes It Impossible To Kiss You, But Not To Love You With All My Heart

The distance makes it impossible to kiss you, but not to love you with all my heart

I never want to forget those memorable moments when we tried together to calculate the (geographical) distance between us : how many kilometers, how many countries. I’ll never forget all the times when, excited-as-a-child, we played with each other so passionately, even though we were older, and fell madly in love every day. Me on you, and you on me – over and over. I well remember how much I loved to flirtatiously tease you, and to cover you with little kisses from head to toe, until you could hardly breathe.

I must confess – in all honesty – that at times I find it almost unbearable that you are so far away. But I cherish even that intense sense of loss, because deep down I understand that this sweet pain really only proves how incredibly crazy I am for you—despite the physical chasm that happens to separate us now.

Distance

Butterflies getting the creeps

Poets – although they know little else about  us – love to talk about butterflies, in 1001 colorful metaphors. However, I think it feels more like being tickled, like the tickles I give you to calm you down; if all other ways prove in vain, no more solace (or just when I really feel like it). And you allow it, while a big grin takes over my face, and for a moment I feel like master of time. For everything stands still, in your motionless relaxed pleasure – except your lips, which lazily and slowly curl into a smile.

We’ve had setbacks, that’s right. But we also tasted unique hours of ecstasy, in which the world lay at our feet, as it were. In which we – drunk with happiness – invented the most idyllic scenarios, and believed them passionately. We may not have always behaved elegantly, but we were mighty brave.

Distance

I don’t want to forget a second of our shared history

I don’t want to forget a second of our shared history because – by the grace of my memory – I take you with me everywhere, even when our bodies are far, far too far apart. Of course, past flashing, quickly evanescent performances, of us, your favorite song on the radio, or a half-decayed, yellowed love note on the back of a beer mat you wrote me once in that one bar, that one evening – such spontaneously poured mementos keep me going. But without the whole constellation of memories, in the starry sky of my memory, such loose fragments would not form a (romantic) story, no lifelike portrait of you would appear in my mind’s eye.

Sooner or later the blessed moment will come when you will really stand in my doorway again. And I’ll jerk my head out of the luggage box and upstairs room of the past. I will give you a penetrating look and invite you to experience new memories together. Until then—as much as I miss your touchable presence—I’m on the safe side, and I’ll carry you with me day and night, in my thoughts. There you live on inseparably, with me, in me, through me.

Distance

I will gently remind you of our last kiss, and how it spread – like ripples in a pond – through our whole body, how that mutual, reflective lip caress stirred our innermost being, even set it on fire. I will cover your eyes as light as a feather, and use every voluptuous curve as the blank page of our book. Letter by letter I will write – with my enamored fingers – from armpit to sole of foot, from forehead to back of the knees what you must never forget: how much I love you.

There will undoubtedly be a moment of impatience, when you will sigh that I am working too slowly – but compare it with how people wrote in the Middle Ages. With those beautiful feathers, which had to be dipped again and again in the inkwell, and thus drove the scribe to the limit, to – literally and figuratively – the end of his Latin. Please make me laugh at this image, because in the film they rarely show the splatter and splash, how the paper gets – almost inescapably – covered with stains.

I will nevertheless continue undaunted, but I will not follow the example of the Hollywood directors. My script will contain both good and evil, the divine and the wicked, joy and sorrow, because in that authentic totality our horizon reveals itself: the light, the darkness, and everything in between. The road to golden happiness, at the end of our forever merging rainbow, is still long, but I want to walk it, hand in hand, side by side with you.

Let the love take over

I love you and I don’t know why or how long it’s been like this or for how long it will be. But I do know that I feel free, that I am myself and that I am happy…   Read more.

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