I Used to Think Kisses Were Meant to be Cold by Mila Pantelides Sola

I used to think kisses were meant to be cold, but hers felt like a brand-like hot iron on my skin wherever she put her lips, and that August we lay on quilted pillows and dusty sheets for hours and did nothing but kiss with the windows open, dried roses drooped above our heads like the dead Jesus watching from the wooden crucifix on the wall next to posters of Robert Smith and Britney Spears, and that August hours were spent busy inhaling lavender shampoo and lip balm that tasted like honey and beeswax, and that August she drew her fingertips across each vertebra of my spine, leaving behind burns on my back and bruises on my collarbone, and on top of the quilted pillows and dusty sheets I twirled the baby hairs on the nape of her neck, wet from the shower where she had used my lavender shampoo, and she kissed me with her tounge and her teeth and I could hear my heart thumping in my chest, getting louder and louder- drowning out the sound of a doorknob turning and the thud of a body hitting the floor when I shoved her off of me and saw my mother’s face frozen in the doorway- and then she left and I did not touch her ever again but I know when she looks naked in the mirror she sees two palm-shaped scars burned into her chest from where I pushed her, and that night I sat on my bed and tried to kiss my own collarbone but I can’t reach it, which is why I let you do it, but when you ask me about the burns on my back I mourn, and when you kiss me all I feel is cold.

Mila Pantelides Sola is a seventeen-year-old writer from Boston, Massachusetts. She loves writing poetry, flash fiction, and short stories. She has previously had her work published in DePaul’s Bluebook and her school’s art and literary magazine, Mirage.

Photo by Ingrid Gomes at Pexels

Enjoyed reading this flash fiction? Like the artwork? Why not buy the author or the artist a coffee? Donate here – Please state the name!