The Kiss
I run into the bedroom and lock the door behind me. I feel calmer, instantly. I sit on the bed and close my eyes. I might as well make myself comfortable, I will be here until he simmers down. The fresh, spring air is coming through the open window. I don’t particularly like the off-white curtains but moving in the breeze like this, they look lovely.
My eyes follow a ray of sunshine and catch it kissing a bottle of perfume sitting on the dresser. The scent it holds is no competition to the lilac tree in the garden.
We used to have chickens a while back and you could hear them under the bedroom window a lot. I even got used to the rooster being our alarm clock. Now the yard is empty and there is just the occasional low hum of the light train rushing toward the city on nearby tracks.
A couple of cream-colored wardrobe chests are standing side-by-side, his and mine. I open mine. Absentmindedly, I run my hand across the clothes on hangers and inspect the neat stacks of folded clothes on the bottom shelve. There is nothing to do here. I close my wardrobe’s door and scoff in the direction of his.
Looking for something else to do, I turn around. The bed could use straightening out but, really, who cares, no one ever comes in here except to sleep. And to hide.
The large frame above the bed catches my eye, next. It is a framed poster of “The Kiss”.
I love Klimt. I love the combination of ambiguity and detail in his paintings. Like in this one. The elaborate detail of their clothing, so shimmery, and golden. Warmth practically radiates out of the picture. He is towering over her, enveloping her in his glow, kissing her passionately. Her head is turned to the side as if she’s re-thinking this. Does she really want to be kissed? Or is the kiss forced, giving it a whole different meaning?
Right now, I feel like he is pushing himself into her world when she is done with him but has not found a way of keeping him out yet.
I feel like her today.
Hana Laurenzo, Mom, Twin Soul, Entrepreneur, Writer. Full of Gratitude. Boldly walking toward my dreams.
