The Last Kiss


The only picture from our wedding that I had printed and framed. -Photo by my mom

The last time he kissed me was at the end of our marriage ceremony. You may kiss the bride. April 13, 2007. After over five years, I feel like I’ve never been kissed.

There were no good-night kisses. There were no good-morning kisses. No I-love-you kisses. No passionate kisses. No make-out sessions. And, no, you don’t have to kiss to have sex.

A kiss. The elusive kiss seems now more intimate than any other physical connection between two people.

I longed for his kiss. I noticed he never kissed me. If we could, if he could, if I could, would we find our happily ever after?

The answer is no. There was no love, and without love a kiss is as meaningless as the paper plate holding the meal. Our marriage was a paper plate.



  1. twindaddy · · Reply

    This is so sad. I’m so sorry.

    1. It is, yes. But it’s over, and that’s not sad.

      1. twindaddy · · Reply

        Well, I’m not one to celebrate divorce, especially after having just narrowly avoided one.

        1. The divorce is nothing to celebrate. I never want to experience that ever again, but I’m glad I’m not married to him anymore. The duality is hard to reconcile.

          1. twindaddy · · Reply

            Yes, I’ve been there, too. If you ever need anyone to talk to…hit me up.

            1. Appreciated. Truly. Thank you.

              1. twindaddy · · Reply

                You’re welcome.

  2. Reblogged this on David Emeron: Reflections upon Reflections and commented:
    I have never been able to understand how such a thing can happen. And I am so very sorry–whenever I hear about it. My sweetheart and I love each other so very much. And we have for the better part of a century. And in many ways, we seem just the same. Love at first sight, and second, and third… I know it is not this way for everyone. I understand it intellectually. I suppose… I suppose I wonder… when it is as you describe, does one have a sense of it beforehand? Is there a peculiar sense… a vague sense of something missing?

    I am very much afraid to read more, because I feel from the titles I see, that it may all be too sad for me to bear. Still I follow because… On wordpress, that’s what we do for one another. I’ve thought and written extensively upon it. It spans all ideologies, this support. I follow anyone’s blog–with a couple of caveats. It has to be a real blog, not just a few posts as a device to boost traffic to some other site; and it must not be an aggregation site, or magazine site. I don’t participate in such things, whether involving poetry or not. Nor do I participate in anything having to do with awards of any kind. When I receive them or nominations for them, I politely decline them. But apart from that I follow everyone.

    And it can be remarkable how someone with whom I have very little, or perhaps, nothing in common, will spark some curiosity, make me laugh or provoke a thought or two. I normally wouldn’t read a post like this in detali, but something about the title and the photograph caught my eye. I felt it warranted some attention. But I do not think I can read much of this kind of post. When one gets to be my age, one likes to laugh especially, I think. My dearest Mrs. Emeron and I do laugh a great deal. For that reason, I have stopped watching television news, as of a few years ago, I believe. Things do still filter down by osmosis, but I don’t seek them out. My blood pressure is normal–the lowest its been in decades without a bit of pharmaceutical help. Those who know me may credit my state of fitness, which has been increasing regularly with due diligence; but I would credit at least half of that with my lack of interest in current events.

  3. I’m so sorry! I’m glad the blog is serving as a way to process this stuff. It helps to write it out, doesn’t it?

    1. It does help. I can get it out of my head in two ways. One so I stop remembering it and two so I don’t forget it. Plus I enjoy the practice of writing and, with this, I am never short of a topic.

  4. Beautifully written! I love this part the most “A kiss. The elusive kiss seems now more intimate than any other physical connection between two people.”

    1. Oh thank you. I think I wrote that sentence ten times before I was satisfied it said something without using too many words.

  5. […] I practice writing. I have a story. It is a true story. I can tell it, for whatever reason. Telling it helps me practice writing, and keep my wits about me. I’ve tried some new approaches. I’ve found I enjoy trying to fit the prose along side the picture. […]

  6. This kiss is something I miss more than any other part of a physical relationship. As a man, if I want to get laid, there are very willing ladies out there who for a modest fee will provide that service *cough cough*. But the intimacy of a kiss… the long, lingering, love-soaked locking of lips, that’s what I miss. This post made me tear up a little as I thought about what I’ve lost since getting divorced. But thank you for sharing.

    1. There is something about a kiss, isn’t there. It’s “I love you,” “I want you,” and “I need you” all wrapped up into one action. It leaves a mark, and when it’s gone, it leaves a hole.
      P.S. I love your description: “the long, lingering, love-soaked locking of lips.”

      1. That’s exactly right – it’s usually the first taste of someones passion and expression of love, and its often the thing we first fall in love with in a physical sense. And then when it all falls apart, it’s the thing we miss most about being intimate with that person.

        1. I always did miss it. I noticed. It hurt. I hated that he wouldn’t kiss me. I wasn’t even smoking then. I started again three months before I left him. I never could figure it out. Now I jest that I’m glad he didn’t stick that poisonous snake down my throat; it was in my ear enough with his awful words.

          1. Such an eloquent turn of phrase has painted a lovely picture in my mind – “stick that poisonous snake down my throat”… lovely 😀

            1. Thanks. Now we each have one to take away for the day. I still have “the long, lingering, love-soaked locking of lips” floating down the stream of thoughts for its alliteration.

              1. Glad to be of service 🙂

speak loudly, donkeys are sleeping

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