The portrait.

When I look at the picture in front of me I feel a little strange. The girl in the picture is known to me. I have known the contours of her body. I have kissed her lips. Caressed the cheeks. Held her breasts in my hands. In various ways and on many occasions, she has submitted herself to me. And in more than one ways I felt I owned her body.

I don't do it anymore. Today she is not more than an unknown face in the crowd to me. I haven't thought about her much these days.

O.K., I am lying. But now that she and I are both pretty happy the way we are with our present lives, I often wonder, does it ever cross her mind just like it does with mine, that there was a time when we were together? Intimately, together. I mean we weren't bound by love or anything. But still..?!

Kiss.

There weren't any butterflies in our stomach. We'd gone into a trance instead. Man, how much I love her.