“why don't you kiss me already?”
“huh?”
“oh, come on.
I can see you thinking about it.
staring at me,
staring at my lips,
even leaning over a bit a few times
before you move back again.
what's wrong?”
“I'm not…”
“be serious for a moment.
we both know why we're here,
it is clear that you want this,
what are you waiting for?
there is no perfect moment,
and you seem to be tenser as time goes by,
not happier or more relaxed.
why not get it over with,
see what happens?”
“that's not…”
“ah…”
“no.
let me explain.
I don’t want to kiss you right now.
then you will know,
and I don’t want you to know.
this hidden information
and the curiosity that comes with it,
they keep us together,
locked in this moment,
in a zugzwang none of us dares to acknowledge.
what will happen if I do,
kiss you?
very simple.
next moment you’ll be gone.
because I see no real passion in your eyes;
no real spark.
I only see a child
waiting for Christmas to finally get the toy
she’s been waiting for since the beginning of the school-year.
the one all her classmates already have.
but come March,
when the snow has melted,
and the school-year nears its ending,
there isn’t a place in her room for that toy any more,
or a place in her house,
unless you count the attic.
and,
even though,
I don’t feel special enough,
to deserve a place in your room,
I really don’t want to end up in the attic.
here’s your bow.
I’ll miss you,
but go hunt somewhere else.”
