She wants to know what my look means,
and I lovingly tell her, “nothing”.
But in fact,
I am kissing her with my eyes.

These eyes know that our lips,
so supple, and subtly quivering,
are not yet allowed to touch,
but still they tease me
with the imagery;
expound upon the fantasy
and, ultimately…
Make me look somewhat stupid.

But I still tell her it means nothing.
And she still knows I am lying.
Sometimes I wonder what her look means.
Sometimes I think she is kissing me back.

It is funny to have kissed so much
without kissing at all.
Our lips are strangers who know each other all too well.
They are estranged pen pals,
on opposing sides of a military blockade.

But when they meet
it will be like the exploration of an unknown land.
For though we have mapped the terrain,
beyond the edges, there be monsters.
Vicious beasts whom I have come to consider
that which constitutes the very excitement
which has me capitulated.
They are the tingles that run down my spine
when I give her that look
that she can’t understand.