Late morning, bustling cafe.

Gentle surprise. Soft, fleeting touch.

A split second.

The ground gives way—I fall into you.

Did no one else feel the quake?

I catch a glimpse of our Narnia,

It is but a touch away.

I begin to divulge my truest self to you. Revealing her inch by inch. Each time, I look to you for a sign of judgement, rejection. An admonishment to stay in line, be normal.

I wait at the ready to sneak furtively back into myself. My spokeswoman is on-deck. I will send her out at a moment’s notice so I can retreat back into safety.

I wait, but the rejection doesn’t come.

Instead, you embrace my truth with open arms, an escaping laugh. You express the things you appreciate about me. The little things that make me unique. The characteristics of my true self, not the person I present to the world.

The pureness of your acceptance shakes me to my core.

I love how much you like lemons. You have such interesting taste.

I love when you said, ‘put ‘er on here!’ And slapped your thighs. I live for these moments with you.

You bring out my silly, my goofy, my weird, my genuine.

You hold my sweaty hands and compliment my thunderous burps. We laugh and play and love together.

We cherish these little moments. So many little moments with you.

Soon I stop checking so often. I stop thinking so hard. One day, I forget to think about how to act around you. I stop acting and started being.

It’s infectious, the being. The act of existing in your truest, most genuine form. It’s more than existing, it’s active and purposeful and yet not orchestrated or measured at all. It feels beautiful because it is the way we are meant to live.

I feel so alive.

Thank you.

I’m hopeful despite myself.

I want you so badly.

I try to stifle it, but the ache inside me is audible.

I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.

I don’t even know if you exist.

You are a part of me already.

How long will you love me?

Long enough.

How long is long enough?

A hundred human lifetimes.

Red-shuttered inn, how long has it been?
We sat at your window, alone me and him.

The wine- it ran red. The words- they ran steady.
Our one final eve, not sure I was ready.

Time does not wait, and so we walked on.
Out dancing we went, we’d stay until dawn.

We listened and watched, then joined right along.
We spun round in circles, you dipped me each song.

Morning grew near, the night was but over.
We headed on home, you weren’t quite sober.

We walked to the train, you wished me goodbye.
As I sat there I felt, full and satisfied.

Lake-blue eyes. The water laps at my toes. Refreshing wetness. I know this place. I haven’t been here before. I hesitate before taking a step. Just one step, but now I’m drowning. Drowning. I’ve never breathed so deeply.

I lean into soft, full lips. They embrace, they dance. Our lips have been rehearsing together for years. How is it we’ve only just met?

Your ambrosial exhale draws me in. My face can’t get close enough. I’ve never craved a smell this way, never inhaled anything like you. I’m spellbound. I’ve known this scent forever.

Warm hands on my back. Gentle, firm. Your fingers know my skin so well. You’ve touched this body a million times. How is it we’ve only just met?

“It’s okay to be scared,” you whisper.

I melt into you. This is home.