Honey Kisses

Maybe I’ve read too many vampire romance novels of late. Or maybe my overactive imagination is conjuring up mysterious figures to ensnare my senses & send me into a dark love that was destined to end with my death.
     Or maybe he really was a vampire or werewolf. Damnit for me staying up for the past few nights, contemplating these theories I had of this onyx-eyed stranger, whose near porcelain skin seemed to reflect light, whose talent seemed to run deeper then his skill with the alto sax or the paint brush. He was there but never there, a guardian angel of sorts for me. I knew he was there; the air around me felt cold, brittle, ancient, alive.
     A first glance upon him seemed to peak my attention fully; he was simply sitting there, alone, on the boulder by the park entrance, by the pond where the geese nested every year to raise their chicks. A crisp yet clean red shirt, with the top button undone, dark chocolate hair moving slightly with the breeze & a gold necklace dangling from his neck; too far way to see what exactly it was in the form of, though.
     But I could feel his gaze upon me, despite both of us being at least 40 feet away from each other. Still, there was something that made my blood begin to sing, to course through my veins like a rushing flood; that enticing look in his black eyes that seemed to dare one to approach him, as if he was an all-powerful god meant to seduce mortal women who witness his glory.
     The truth about him, when I discovered it, didn’t actually impact me as much as I had thought: we have been friends, & perhaps more then that, for roughly four months or so when I found out. Creeping suspicions had run through my nervous veins. He told me, as we both lay underneath a mid-summer sky that had laid out for us a blanket of night dotted with the pinpoints of exploding stars whose light had just reached us & a large full moon, brilliant in color & size.
     “You truly don’t fear me,” his sultry, siren song voice whispered in my ear, arms wrapped my waist firmly, vaguely hinting at something, as we sat against the trunk of an ancient oak tree. “For what I am?”
     “100 percent.” I whispered back, his unnaturally handsome face resting only inches away from mine, both our foreheads against the others’.
      He chuckled slightly, that voice of his sending my heart into a maniac beat. “It really would have been better for both you & I if you hadn’t had said that, my dear.”
     But his words were no way to mask his true feelings; that smirk upon his face gave all of his feelings away.
     And with that, I felt his lips upon mine, smooth as honey & embrace just as wonderful, a wandering hand caressing my heated blushing cheek. As if I was on Cloud 9 was the only possible way in which I could describe that single event & those which followed his kiss of deep passion; passion that tasted of darkness, forbidden wants & desires, & of secrets.
                                       Passion was, indeed, a mysterious taste
                                                       To the senses.