One Million Kisses Is Not Enough

Life is not long enough. Never long enough. For all the kisses we shared, it's not enough. 

Have you ever felt like this? Even though your loved one has passed beyond, and as much as possible you have accepted that hard fact, you still...I mean STILL and truly want more of his kisses? I don't want just one last kiss, either. I want more. One million more. 

The physical aching for touch can be a powerful motivator. The touch of his lips. The scent of his skin. The warmth of his hug. The vibrancy of being close together, in the same space. I'm using kisses as a metaphor for all of that. At least I can send kisses, still, into the wind of the night. And because I am a hopeful person, I do look forward to feeling my emptiness stop short at the end of my natural life; nevertheless, there is much to be contemplated in the presence or absence of another physical presence. 

It seems as if my skin has demands. It seems as if my lips have demands. It seems as if my arms have demands. Demands to feel his person, once again. In the war between my mind and memories, and the ordinary demands of my physical presence, I know that memory will win eventually because in my longing to share kisses there is only one person who can love me in exactly the right way. And he's gone.

So I send kisses to the stars at night, knowing in my heart he is still with me. Still loving me. Still trying to understand why I am yet suffering his enduring loss. 

The cool thing is that kisses are definitely renewable. Yesterday I sent a million kisses skyward and tonight I will send another million. To the stars and beyond, let my kisses fly to you, my one love. 

A million kisses will never be enough.