The moment we make eye contact, even for a split second, I taste eternity.
When our lips touch, I’m frozen in time with raging fire.
She makes sense. I make sense. The world finally makes some fucking sense with brilliant clarity.
Everything is alive and burns like the dead stars we’re all made of. Everything matters because this moment matters. Yet nothing matters because only we matter. And in this paradox, we come alive as star dust. Rising from the ashes and the dirt, I see her and I am seen.
We stop kissing. She giggles. I can’t hear her because of the club music. But her crinkled nose and smiling eyes are more than enough to fill my ears.
I can’t stop smiling. Please, don’t stop.
Don’t.
She disappears. I don’t get her number or insta. I go out to find her, but she’s gone.
Why did she leave? Was I not good enough? Did she not feel the same? Nothing makes sense.
I touch my lips, trying to savor any last residue of our kiss. That too is gone. The memory of it is not good enough. Seconds turn into minutes and then into hours. I feel cold.
We made eye contact. I remember her crinkled nose and shimmering eyes. I taste that fleeting moment. That ephemeral ecstasy.
lee, sooho 