The Kiss

Everything has a tendency to become just another tired-ass ritual to perform.

The words dry up, their meaning wears thin and fades away every time we use them, until its all a senseless bunch of interchangeable garbage, greetings and grunts of acknowledgment, something so damn polite and predictable that it neither requires nor deserves any actual attention.

Just as the meaning of our actions wears away through use, until they become nothing more than gestures, the path to the temple is worn so smooth by the repeated shuffling of our feet that it becomes transparent, and it can take a great effort to remain conscious of it, and honestly, there isn't much of a reward for doing so, even if you did.

But if you've never had one of those kisses that is so deep that you teeter on the edge of consciousness, where you realize there is actually no limit to how far you can surrender yourself to someone else, to how deeply you can drink from them, or how deeply they can drink from you, where you draw each other's breath, and it feels like you have to travel for miles to pull yourself away from it, then you need to keep paying attention.

Just be careful, 'cause you can fall and break yer hip and shit.