Letter To My Lover- The Kiss In The Library

By Surya Prasanna Bharani Sannidhanam

They say we use less than 30% of our minds in our whole lifetime. Isn’t it fascinating that such a wonderful machine; a critical thinker, a decision maker, the very organ that defines us, and most importantly a repository of all our memories, is vastly underused in our whole lifetime? I am particularly fond of how our minds stack up our most impactful memories, be it sweet or sour. Our minds are just amazing, aren't they?

If there was one thing I prided myself on, it was my ability to commit to memory the little intricate details of my environment. These senses only heightened around you, my human. I remember, very vividly, your particulars: your eyebrow lines, eyelashes, your smiles and your teeth. The color of your eyes or the way they sparkle when you speak, the sound of your laugh and silence of your calm, the melody of your voice, the hunch of you passing by, and your strong whiff that sets tingly sensations awry. Mainly, that thick whiff. That intoxicating scent.

Psychology says, a person’s body’s scent is extremely powerful in determining one's attraction toward them. And now, I see why I was so smitten by you from the moment we first met. My mind carries a memory of your scent and my body a memory of your touch.

If a sense of comfort and security has a fragrance, I know it would be like yours. I remember how any odour remotely similar to yours, would bring back images of you, and instinctively, a wave of secure comfort would wash over me, if only for a few seconds. So very powerful that it would evoke a taste of you in my mouth in its wake. Nothing was ever this strong.

Do you remember that day in the library? The enormous room, largely empty for us, beams of soft sun rays falling through the huge window, forming patterns on the dusty floors, the aisles of stuffy books of all possible genres, and you. My conversation with the book I was holding and the allure it had over me was broken at once by your scent. Your well-acquainted scent mingling with the aroma of experienced books, almost made it feel like home.

An instinctive smile and a quick swirl and I would come face to face with your square face, those deep-brown eyes, bounded by black-framed glasses, and a toothy smile. Admirable teeth arrangement- no wires used. You leaned in for a kiss. A quick kiss, or so I thought. Was it the stuffy books, or the genre I was reading- Romance? Was it solitude or your intoxicating scent? I could never really be sure. But the kiss wasn’t quick or ordinary anymore. It felt like an explosion frozen in midair. I could feel the heat, and touch the convulsed cloudy smoke manifesting slowly. It felt like the Fusion of gods - of Fire and Water; you touched me and I burst into eternal flames. It wasn't a daily drizzle, but rain that could drown the entire city, and yet not quench my thirst; Where absolute chaos appeared more organized in comparison to my thoughts. And when we had finally parted, it only left us thirsty and in need of more.

I wondered for a long time that night: How can such an explosion be started by two pairs of lips and contained in two hearts, worked out by two pairs of hands and two warm bodies?

And hence I write this letter to you, my dear.

Next time when you come home, come to me again! To the same library where I wait. Touch me again, like one touches a miracle. Trace my cheekbone, with your long index finger, and feel my heart skip a beat again, as your finger slides down my neck slowly; kiss me in the crook of my neck, and watch me burst into flames of desire again. Relive the sinful excitement once again, as you hold me closer than ever. Listen to my silent sighs, and you will hear what you want to hear the most. See how the touch of your hand would send jolts of electricity through me yet again, compared to which even the thunders look mild. Watch me turn into mush once more, with meaningful tummy butterflies and the sizzling passion that clouds my judgement every time you touch me like I am the most sacred thing.

Can you imagine that? That's what you do to me.

Do it to me once more.

By Surya Prasanna Bharani Sannidhanam