Never Been Kissed

So many times,
lips pressed against mine.
But I've never been kissed.
I've felt hands on my body,
The ache between my thighs.
But I've never been kissed.
Because every time that lips press against mine,
I wander off to a place in my mind.
What does it feel like to be kissed?
Not the brushing of lips to lips,
What is it like to really be kissed?
To have someones heart ache for mine,
I do not know what that feels like.
To be wanted for more for just my skin,
I want to be kissed.
Kissed in a way that collides two people into a flame,
Burning to death, but not in vain.
I've never felt the lips of someone who wants all of me,
Just the little pieces.
But I am whole,
And maybe I'll never know;
What it's like to really be kissed.

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

The psychology of this one is interesting. The speaker complains of having never really been kissed, while simultaneously admitting to a wandering of the mind at every touch of lips. It's as though some fear intervenes at the last moment, most likely a fear of being hurt. Ironically, it is this tendency that continues to prevent the experience of a real kiss. It sounds as though therapy is in order here.