Red Lips & Battlefields

Archive for the category “Kiss&Tell”

The Floatin’ Love

Minutes, days, months, years passed. No messages, no contact, no touch… nothing. I try and fail, but I keep trying and trying. Maybe he moved on? Maybe he forgot me? Maybe he’s happy? But I’m not.

Close my eyes and remember every second spent with you; that touch, that smell, those lips, those eyes . Those arms where I found refuge. Keep looking everywhere but I can’t find you. Cross my fingers and pray, and wait, and pray, and wait. Today you are back, but you can’t be mine.

Why? Why does he show us dreams when, once back to reality, he shatters them? Why so much pain? They say time heals all pain. Why doesn’t this pain heal?

Every time I talk to you, hear bout you, see you, my body freezes, my mind stops working, my heart beats as fast as the speed of light. They tell me it’s wrong, I can’t love you, and I can’t be with you. Doesn’t God create every human with a soul? Why you takin’ my soul away from me and still expect me to be alive? One word and I’m alive, but they don’t let me get through to you. I keep on trying’, like a man takin’ his last breaths.

Until you are, I am;  and when you won’t be anymore, I’lll be gone with u. My heart’s restin’ in my body without beatin’. No sound, no feeling, nothing. Wish I could rip it apart off my body and throw it in the sea, but I see it floatin’ back to you.

– Anonymous
April 10, 2014

(For more information on the Kiss&Tell project, as well as access to other anonymous letters or to submit your own, click on the menu option at the top of this page titled “Kiss&Tell”.)

The Doll House

“Dance me to the end of love.” I had just been listening to my favorite Leonard Cohen song in the car, and was quite amused when your mother greeted me at the door, humming the same tune. As we sat down for dinner, I remember thinking that it was funny that she happened to be playing the same CD that I most often played on my iPhone. I thought that, perhaps, it was some kind of sign that we were supposed to be together.

In retrospect, it seems that I was always looking for these signs, trying to convince myself that I was in the right place. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t. That isn’t to say I didn’t care about you. I did. It’s just that I always sort of knew, silently, that we weren’t meant to be together.

We were much too different, you and I. We just didn’t see things in the same light. You were, for lack of a better word, very mathematical: every decision you ever made was based on a logical formula of sorts. I, on the other hand, was not quite so calculated. I had a vision of the future that I wanted with you, but it was built mostly upon frivolous daydreaming. I knew that it wouldn’t be too long before I snapped out of it.

I don’t know if I can say we were in love. I feel like it isn’t fair to say that we weren’t but, at the same time, I’m really not sure anymore. I feel like we tried to make things work because they looked good on paper. No outsider could have ever guessed that we were unhappy. We were both very good at playing nice. Eventually, it started to drain me. It even became a little bit painful. When I tried to envision the life that lay before us, all I could see were dead ends. I could only see a whole lot of compromising, and a load more of political correctness. Nevertheless, I somehow convinced myself [for a very long time] that I ought to be satisfied.

Leaving you behind was very difficult. I had developed a loyalty to you, which, honestly, could have probably withstood time. We could have probably built a white picket-fence life and filled it with children’s toys. I could have set a meal on our table every day, and you could have brought home the bread. We could have shared a retirement fund.

We would have both been so devastatingly miserable.

You are a wonderful person. One day, you will make someone out there very happy. Someone will choose you with adamant conviction, and you will help her build the most intricate parts of herself, just as she will seal yours. You will be the fabric of each other’s dreams. I could have never been that person. I would have always felt cheated, like I had received the short end of the stick because, with you and I, everything was based on compromise. In order to love each other, we both had to sacrifice the love of ourselves, and we both became bitter.

One day, you will find a love that completes you, and that does not ask you to change in order to earn it. Perhaps I will too. Only time will tell.

All I can really say to you, at this point, is good luck.

Good luck and goodbye.

– Anonymous
April 1, 2014

(For more information on the Kiss&Tell project, as well as access to other anonymous letters or to submit your own, click on the menu option at the top of this page titled “Kiss&Tell”.)

The Unrequited

I don’t know if you have ever realized… but I love you. I have done so since the moment I saw you. This is a feat in itself as all I saw of you was your nose and a bit of your eyes (it was winter so the hat and scarf were covering every bit of your face), yet I was blown away.

You may ask when that happened; a year ago, possibly 2. No, it happened 4 years ago and, to the shock of my friends, I still haven’t told you how I feel. Week after week we see each other, and yet I am too scared to say so. Part of it is due to the fact that I don’t want to ruin a good thing if you don’t feel the same way. I have to say, after my initial reaction, I tempered down my feelings for you. I didn’t want a repeat of someone else, or being disappointed. However, I was right to feel as I did all those years ago.

I love how you respect me. I love how you let me speak and we agree to disagree. I love how we like similar movies and TV shows, yet we also have different tastes in other matters such as music. I love how we watched marathons of those movies and TV shows until the late hours of early morning. I love how you understand my jokes or references to songs and films. I love how you always come to events with me even when you may not like or understand them. I love how we watch football together occasionally. I love how you got me into tennis when I didn’t enjoy it before.

I love all these things and more about you, yet I am scared to tell you. I could fill a page of how much I love you. Every thought of you brings a smile to my face as it does now. You are gorgeous inside and out, which makes me love you even more, if that were even possible.

So here is my confession on paper; you may see it or, very likely, you may not.

– Anonymous
March 20, 2014

(For more information on the Kiss&Tell project, as well as access to other anonymous letters or to submit your own, click on the menu option at the top of this page titled “Kiss&Tell”.)

The Passerby

If I could, I would write you a masterpiece, but you will have to make do with my humble soliloquy for now…

Our brief encounter was, in time, as simple as two shoulders accidentally rubbing on a crowded side-walk. You could have been nobody. But, I took the time to look at you. You took the time to see me. And all it took was that one hard look for me to know that I knew you. I knew you, and you hadn’t yet said a word.

I didn’t speak to you for long. Not long at all. But, somehow, you managed to get right under my skin. You awakened passions in me that I lost a lifetime ago. You reminded me what it was like to feel again; to find, to celebrate, to lose, to mourn, to remember. The accidental touch of your shoulder against mine felt like a full-blown slamming of souls. You left me breathless.

You’re gone now, with all the other strangers who pass me by on crowded sidewalks every morning. It is quiet, now, and there is only room for memory. If there was a magical pen that could draw your face into the fabric of my dreams, I wouldn’t possibly remember it better. I remember “A Whole New World.” I remember hands shaking. I remember eyes meeting mine, and finally feeling at home. I remember diving despite my fear of water. Exposure therapy.

For you, I dove. And I broke my neck. I knew, if I didn’t, I would never forgive myself.

– Anonymous
March 19, 2014.

(For more information on the Kiss&Tell project, as well as access to other anonymous letters or to submit your own, click on the menu option at the top of this page titled “Kiss&Tell”.)

The Destructive

I am tired. Tired of tight bodices under short dresses. Perfectly waxed legs. Painful heels that make the balls of my feet burn, the delicate sides of my toes rip. Tired of walking like I’m on a runway… one step in front of the next, a dance in my hips. Full figured sexy. I’m tired. Tired of turning my nose up against a slice of french toast. Of shaming myself into refusing a bite of chocolate because it will take permanent residence against the sides of my hips. I’m tired of sinking my teeth into tastelessness, binding myself within traditional notions of womanhood, repressing the bulge in my waistline in a corset that forces me to breath little, short breaths, or not breathe at all. I’m tired.

Tired of running my fingers through textured fabrics on manufactured racks in stores with bright glaring lights that don’t flatter the creases in my skin, looking for something that will render me beautiful. I’m tired. Tired of minding the straightness of my back even as I attempt to sink into the couch in the privacy of my own living room, when nobody is watching. I am tired of being confined, prepped, primed, manicured, brushed, whisked, flushed, lip-stuck. I am tired of being stuck. I am tired of my fingers straightening and toes curling, back stiffening as the masseuse asks me to relax. I am tired of paying people to tell me what to wear, how to draw on a mask of perfection, how to run my fingers through my hair, and how to run myself through the cellar of life: refining, hiding silently in darkness, tasting “better”. Paying my time. Paying my love. Paying my heart. Paying.

I’m tired of sweet wines and deep cognacs that weaken my mind, that make me more of the woman they want with every sip, and with every sip less the woman I am. I am tired. Tired of overwhelming perfumes, masked eyes, long nails, bright lipsticks. Tired of long hair, straightened into perfection, not one strand out of place: lifeless. I am tired of holding my breath and holding my stomach, training my voice into song-tune for the rare occasion when it is allowed to utter a word. I am tired. Tired of giggling. Tired of pretending. Tired of drawing myself, painting myself, washing myself out. I am tired of empty promises and weak kisses stolen under frozen twilights in frozen cities. I am tired of faking orgasms. Tired.

– Anonymous
March 18, 2014.

(For more information on the Kiss&Tell project, as well as access to other anonymous letters or to submit your own, click on the menu option at the top of this page titled “Kiss&Tell”.)

The Dirty Little Secret

“We only said goodbye with words, I [cried] a hundred times. You go back to [earth] and I go back to…” The closer we get, the quicker you go back to reality, reminding me that ‘we’ could never be. I guess in a way you try to remind yourself too but why remind when you can’t forget? I will never forget one of the most surreal and real moments in my life–heavily and sadly crying while I was given one of the best gifts of my life. In your arms, driving where the wind would take us (literally) reminded me of how carefree we were for that split second when nothing else mattered. You showed me that I can have emotion again, you showed me that I could love without boundary even if for a blink of an eye. Thank you. Thank you because I know that if my world crashed you would not let me crash with it. Thank you for kissing me with love and with lust. Thank you for looking at me ‘that’ way.

There are some things better left unsaid, but I know whenever we look into each others eyes they do the talking. I suppose this is what this letter’s meant to be, a brief look into my eyes. And then you hold me tight underneath the sun and moon in various nooks and cracks in the city and it’s like for those few moments there are no obstacles in the way. 2 am road trips, sneaking off into waterfalls, falling into the embrace of dangerous excitement all came crashing my way for years. We can thank that moment by the mountain, during the sunset, and after just a few days of talking, when we just knew. Something unmistakable, something forbidden, and yet, something so wonderful was about to occur. I use that word because I can never explain it to another human being. And that’s why you’re my dirty little secret. Well, for other reasons too of course.

These obstacles… I don’t want you to ever think that I won’t abide by them or that I will try to make you change your mind. If I could turn back time and be in the position to erase one of the obstacles, I would in a heartbeat. And then you would be mine. But you’re not unless it’s temporary. I don’t know why we put walls up when vulnerable; I can see that even in writing this. The last time you pushed me away tore me apart more than I could ever explain to you. Maybe it’s because I felt it was really goodbye; like this was it. I wouldn’t want to ever fully let you go, there is a magnetic force in me latched on to you. I know one day I will not have a choice in the matter but I guess I’m still on my first stage of grief- denial. I hope you never read this. I hope you never know how much it actually hurts or how much I care. But I hope you feel the same way. Sometimes you win—sometimes I feel insignificant to you. Maybe in the realm of everything that is logical I am, but if I was emotionally insignificant then I would not be pushed away just to be held tight… I don’t get it, even if I participate in it.

Why is it that people play games? I guess to prove who has the power. But in this case none of us do… and yet we’re stuck playing, hiding, masking, and not saying all that is true. So don’t read this letter because the games will be over. And once they are, I’m afraid you’ll go with them. Love me from a distance, dream of me, and hold me in every breath you take… This is just the beginning of my goodbye, my dirty little secret. I will forever keep the memories sealed within my heart.

March 12, 2014.

(For more information on the Kiss&Tell project, as well as access to other anonymous letters or to submit your own, click on the menu option at the top of this page titled “Kiss&Tell”.)

The Far-Fetched

We’ve been talking for quite some time now and our friendship has grown to a point where there are days where we would spend endless hours, day or night, talking about anything, which is so often criticized as impersonal and distant.

I don’t think I’ve ever “talked” as much with anybody or any so-called friend as I do with you.

Some people talk about the risks and dangers of knowing someone you just met, to the point of becoming suspicious of their own shadows. But I must confess that our contact, even at a distance, has become really important to me.

But, more importantly, I feel the need to know that you are well, that you had a good day, that things went well for you and all those curiosities that true friends have about one another.

By writing this letter, I acknowledge my intention of maintaining this almost daily contact, until the day that we can tighten this relationship and make it more physical.

March 10, 2014

(For more information on the Kiss&Tell project, as well as access to other anonymous letters or to submit your own, click on the menu option at the top of this page titled “Kiss&Tell”.)

The Byron

You’re a difficult memory,
But you’re a wonderful one.

You challenged everything I believed in.

You tore me apart and then made me a whole different kind
Of whole.

You nourished me, re-energized me,
and sheltered me.
You kept me warm.

You made me feel at home; you were good at that.

You were also good at leaving.
So was I.

All the roads lead to Venice, after all.
All the roads lead to love.

They lead to nothing.

But the wind blows.
And, when it blows, we have to go with it.

Don’t we?

– Anonymous.
March 1, 2014.

(For more information on the Kiss&Tell project, as well as access to other anonymous letters or to submit your own, click on the menu option at the top of this page titled “Kiss&Tell”.)

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