One-Hundred Days

Your lips are my introduction, an introduction to something that has always been beyond my reach. As you pull me closer into you, I can feel the feeling I've always wanted to inhabit my own body, not those of the people I see on the streets, doing what we're doing now. You introduce me to an entirely new memory, a new experience, with each place your fingers reach, touching so lightly I barely notice the boundaries they cross. Your lips are my introduction and the focus of my attention.

I try to let my mind wander like your hands, but I can only focus on every part of our body melting into each other, and your lips on mine. I try to close my eyes without seeing just darkness.

I've always hated this part of colliding lips, the part where we close our eyes. All I can ever see is darkness, never fireworks, never light, nothing ever but darkness, and this always scares me. I always keep my eyes open until the last possible second, while you close your eyes and stumble blindly into an unnamed introduction, hoping for the best and that your lips will hit the mark.

You have a confidence that I have always lacked, but as your hands wander and mine stay still, an introduction bring out what I've always wished to have. I let my hands introduce themselves to your own, and I let them wander in the same way yours do.

You sighed that introductions were overrated, unneeded. I smiled and shook my head, wandering my hands across your chest. You need never know that your lips sparked an introduction of my own to you, that this was all in introduction to me to that thing called love everyone seems so obsessed about these days.

You sighed about unneeded introductions while your hands introduced me to a new love.
But you were too tired and happy to take in the irony.