The Opposite of a Kiss

A proper kiss is a breeze that will stir the leaves resting on the forest floor of my heart
that have long since been raked into a pile, soaked by rain waters, 
layered and withered, slowly becoming a part of the ground on which they rest. A proper kiss will barrel through the pile of leaves like a child, scattering the dry skeletal fingers of the trees from which they fell, giving them new life as colorful flying things in the wind, only resting when at long last the child falls exhilarated and peaceful into their soft piles again.

Purposeful silence. The silence that resounds between two people with everything not said between them. The silence that fills with everything that could be said, inflated by imagination, sharpened by self indulgence and a desperate desire to say the thing that will end all argument, but gagged by the fear of discovery of the truth, and somehow the fear of injury.

For in silence, there is power without vulnerability. This is the opposite of a kiss.