Friday, August 9, 2013
Photo via: Masha Demianova
There we were, lying there, only skin between us, incandescently happy. I had been in the arms of men before, but you were different. The way our bodies entangled. I could lay in your warmth forever. Normally passion overwhelmed us, but this time we lied there, motionless. We stole kisses back and forth, our lips barely touching. As soft music filled your room our eyes remained shut, our hands surrounded one another, and yet held frozen. It was perfect. You slowly moved your hands to gently hold my face, then you said it: maybe. It was evident your feelings were hard to communicate in that moment. Yet the words began to stumble out of your mouth nonetheless: I think I maybe falling in love with you. Before the words left your lips I knew. As I held your head in my hands I kissed you. It wasn’t a kiss of passion or lust, but of unpretentious happiness. Because I think, maybe, I’m falling in love with you too.