When did kissing you
become like putting my lips
to a cool glass of water on a hot day?
Natural and easy,
almost as though
I had never done it at all.
And when did running
my hands along your skin
begin to feel as though I were
clutching my own arms
to keep warm
on an unseasonably cool day?
At what point did it become less clear
where the lines of your shell end
and mine begin?
Was it when we first collided?
Or is this a fusion laced time?
Have I been classically conditioned
to confuse your body with mine?
How did we grow
from tentatively holding hands
to kissing thighs or spines
with no shiver of uncertainty?
How is it that
even when our embrace ends
I know we are still connected?
Locked together by some magnetic force.
A kiss our souls need no rest from.
How is it that I blended and melted
and molded into you?
And even more perplexing
when did this all begin?
Was is when? Was it when?