A Book I'm Going to Write

We lay in the dark, our bodies seemingly suspended in thin air.
While in reality, they rest on the thick layer of tension and anticipation surrounding us.
And only centimeters exist between our lips, my nose dances left caressing his cheek.
Our eyes hold contact, steady and sure and daring the other to break.
The moment is a balloon being filled with water. It stretches and expands as you hold your breathe, waiting for the moment that it pops and explodes.
That is exactly what happens here.
My bottom lip catches his, and it's as though I can feel every jagged and chapped edge of his mouth in that small point of contact.
Gravity holds our heads inches apart but locked in a continuous state of beckoning.
I want to kiss him but I don't want this moment to end.
This single moment carries the weight of everything that has passed between two people, everything that is to come.
How can one moment feel so heavy?
It builds up, seconds turning to full minutes, until our lips collide and the moment explodes into shards of glass.