First loves

It was hard not to look at you.

I walked away from you, but the truth was I couldn’t help wondering about you. I wondered what your name was. What you did to get that incredible tan. What your laughter would sound like. If you wondered about me too.

That was the first time I saw you.

A year later. You had me backed up against the handrail. Words were tripping over my tongue and tumbling out of my mouth in rapid succession. It’s a beautiful night, I’m glad it didn’t rain. And yeah, dinner was amazing, wasn’t it? 

I prayed my voice would drown out my frenzied heart. Its pounding bass line strained against my chest, sending ripples to my temples and right down to my finger tips. The wind and the waves conversed in murmurs as I tried to look into your eyes without falling apart.

I panicked.

My heart is beating so quickly. 

I searched your face anxiously when you didn’t respond. I avoided your gaze, suddenly afraid that I had misread the signals and that I would only find rejection there. The wind touched my cheek reassuringly. I looked up. You told me you could make my heart beat faster. Your hand shifted ever so slightly on my back.

You can try.

The words were barely out of my mouth. You probably tasted the last word as I whispered it against your lips. It was like dancing in a mine field. Your kisses wounded me again and again as I tore my heart out and threw it at your feet. Fragments of my heart dusted the field of wreckage that was my soul.

It was my silent promise that if you wished it, every inch of my existence would be yours to claim.

I don’t know why I loved you so desperately.

A first love is like a magician showing you a baffling magic trick. You can’t make sense of it, even though all your attention and energy is focused on it. You’re suspended in his deck of cards. Awed. Excited. Curious. But you don’t want to make sense of it either.

The magic lies in the mystery.

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