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. This is so sad. I’m so sorry.

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

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

            1. Appreciated. Truly. Thank you.

              1. 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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