I trekked up that slushy hill, double time, because I was wasting minutes being anywhere you weren't. I don't think I've ever opened a door faster than in that moment before smashing my body into yours and breathing you in in one messy, rushed kiss. In French, instead if saying I miss you they say tu me manque, which means you are missing from me. This concept was explained to me, finally, as I was wrapped up in you and one of your many colognes. Lips and tongues and teeth and door frames. I could not feel anything because I was feeling everything. My conciousness extended no further than the tip of my nose and at every point my skin touched yours. It's been a while since I have understood myself in such a simple sense, but it was clear you knew me all along. I could tell from the way you traced me without looking and tickled my collarbone with kisses.
And finally,
your mouth moved from me and into
Hello