The kiss I miss the most

I wanted to kiss you goodbye, but I didn’t. I wanted to jump out of the car and chase after you in the airport, the way they do in cheesy love films, but I didn’t. I wanted to scream, “Hey, you’re fucking amazing and I think I’m going to miss you more than I should!” but I didn’t. Last night, I wanted to fall asleep in your arms but I feared how sad and empty my bed would feel all the other nights I’d have to sleep alone, so I all but pushed you out of my room. I wanted you to stop doing everything right so that I wouldn’t find a reason to miss you. But you embraced my crazy obsession with hockey, you found my loud family amusing and they were just enchanted to meet you. You somehow survived my restless shopping. You closed your eyes when you kissed me and your touch made me melt.

So if the Tardis does exist, and I get my pick of any time and space, my heart is set on October 10, 2011—9:51AM—O’Hare Airport. Before I have the chance to convince myself out of it, I’ll slam the car door and run after you. I’ll panic a bit as I search for you among the other travelers, but you won’t have gone far. And I’ll find your tall frame perhaps fumbling with your luggage, or maybe you’re asking a worker for help. You’ll stop what you’re doing when you’ve realized I have followed you inside and you’ll give me that charming grin, the same one you give me whenever I make fun of your accent. You’ll start to say, “Wha-?” but I won’t let you finish because all I’ll want to do is stand on my tip toes, wrap my arms around you one last time, and feel your lips on mine…because I should have kissed you goodbye, but I didn’t.