When you are around me I know you never forget your first kiss. You try to gauge from time to time at occasions opportune whether that feeling with which I kissed you is still intact.
I know that. I am not a scoundrel. That flower of feeling I have not thrown away. It has transformed into some plastic flower that will never die.
You and I know, separately though, how important is that feeling even now. Not that I never fantasize for a closer encounter. Whether it takes place or not, whether it is desirable at all, is altogether a different matter.
That we separately cannot forget the kiss, that you still want to be reassured from time to time without anyone uttering a single word is a treasure difficult to come by!
