Sometimes You Just Have To Kiss

Sometimes things happen to bring us a lesson. And that's great.

But sometimes there's no lesson or cosmic reason or anything that needs to be healed from this life or that.

There's just the way the rain feels on your skin. The pull of the moon through your body. Sand and waves and earth curling up between your toes. The way it feels to be loved and held by it all.

Or the way a loss moves through your gut, your heart, your blood, and makes it pulse in ways it never has before. The way one crack can reveal everything.

The way tears sting your eyes like little blinking stars. The way laughter spills over the edges of your mourning. The way a glance can undo you without warning.

Sometimes there's no explanation, no apology, no grand plan to back you up. Good or bad, right or wrong, you are who you are, and you've done what you've done.

You've climbed your mountains and plunged your depths. Risen with the sun and fallen with the night.

And still, there's a lump in your throat and jitters in your skin that won't go away until you reach your beloved and say what you need to say, letting your bones fall into a shameless pile of truth at her feet.

Sometimes there's just breath, and guts, and two hands reaching out for each other.

And you know that if you start reading into things too much you will miss the way it feels to be hollowed out and offered up to these things. The way it feels to be alive. To belong, to really belong to it all.

I mean, you can't always sit there and explain a kiss. Sometimes you just have to kiss.