I feel like I am reading way, way, to much into this. it was just one kiss. in fact, it was barely a kiss. barely. it lasted. . . seconds. before I ended it. I feel annoyed with myself for kissing you back for those seconds. But i can’t decide whether I’m more annoyed at myself for kissing you . . . or for stopping kissing you. I’m leaving in two days. Its not like we have any more chances to talk about what happened. or to do it again. and I know, it was only a kiss. but, there’s alot of . . . history between us, alot of messy unsaid things, scattered arguments and long late night converstations. and even sitting here I’m struggling to get the taste of you out of my mouth and feel of your hands off of my skin. I mean, it hardly even counted as a kiss. does it even count. just the feel of the way you pulled my bottom lip urgently between yours. And then, I had let you. I had let you, encouraged you, as your mouth opened, pushing my open to. And i had felt the flick of your tongue on mine. but, it was only a kiss. and that is where it ended. where i pulled myself away, untangling our limbs and walking away from you. hiding the sting of tears in my eyes becuase, the thing we had both wanted, one tiny, miniscule kiss had happened. Its hard enough as is when I’m away. I used to lie there and recall the way you used to hold me, the way you used to look at me. now I have to go back and remember the way your lips felt on mine, the way your body felt pressed against me. And so, with these two days, I am fighting the urge to kiss you properly this time, and again, and to not pull away from, and to let myself believe for a second that kissing you is ok.