...

my mouth hasn't shut up about you since you kissed it. The idea that you may kiss it again is stuck in my brain, which hasn't stopped thinking about you since, well, before any kiss. and now the prospect of those kisses seems to wind me like when you slip on the stairs and one of the steps hits you in the middle of the back.  The notion of them continuing for what it traditionally terrifying forever excites me to an unfamiliar degree.