Write About Something New
There was no familiarity in anything. Touching your ear and nose and neck was all new. No memorized crevices or comfortable spots. Each reaction was new. I didn’t expect you to breathe like that. Or moan like that. Or look at me like that.
I wanted to see what it felt like to do something new with someone I’ve never known before. It’s awkward because there was no choreography. Each move was improv and each step felt like it could be wrong.
I think we almost fell off the bed at one point.
There was no way to understand when it was ending or what was beginning. I was only sure that each thing was new. New eyes staring at my old body isn’t an easy thing for me.
My birthmarks aren’t new, nor my scars.
Your pauses were new. Your silence and fingerprints and saliva. Your lips were new. Your hair tickled and your face said everything I never knew. It was new, we knew. But it wouldn’t be new forever.
AKR
