The Get Back Sessions

I'm a terrible kisser. It's all lips and tongue and knocking of teeth. I breathe in the person almost like I was trying to suck their soul into me. True, I kiss like I mean it. That doesn't excuse sloppiness though. See, passion needs a sense of control. Not self-restraint per se, but direction and intention. I kiss with uncontrolled intensity. I like the feel of a woman's tongue, of tongue entwined. When I'm breathing in I'm also soaking my nose in her oder. It's as if I want each kiss to take a little part of her with me. I want her touch and taste and smell to form a permanent impression in my mind. Perhaps this is due to my ever-present fear that each kiss is the last one. I kiss like I mean it because I kiss as someone with everything to lose. For when that last kiss comes I want to remember it. That, I think, is the problem. Holding back would mean I thought future kisses were to come. But maybe that's what I should do. A kiss should not result in the abandonment of all reason. And still I kiss with such abandonment because I fear abandonment.