this is the part where my eyes meet yours and it feels like the first time and i am sure you can hear my heartbeat echoing off the hall walls. i am sure you ignore it as you grab my hand and pull me closer to you. one half of your face is a silhouette and the other is cast with candlelight and all i can see is a glint, a tiny glimmer of eyes that feel like the first time. they are cocoa and tinged crimson and i could try to describe the colour but there aren’t any words; all i know is that they are the first time and the last time.
you take my hand and you pull me towards you in an embrace that makes me feel as safe as a caterpillar cocooned; i am sure metamorphosis doesn’t look as beautiful as your tired smile. i saw the rain hit your face once and i’d never wanted to be a droplet of water more than in that moment and when the sun beams down upon your rosy cheeks i wonder if it knows it’s caressing such delicate skin. this is the quintessential part – the part where we kiss and it’s magnetic. those around us could describe it as electric because the sparks between our lips create stadium fires but i would say the quintessential part is where i pull you closer towards me and mid-embrace, i bow you down after being so in sync and you raise slowly with flushed cheeks and you’re closer to me than you were the first time and i tell you i love you. you are the quintessential part of my life, the typical part, the person who arrives unexpectedly and sweeps me up in a haze of adrenaline and excitement. this is the part of the love story where the viewers hearts are yearning for a happily ever after.
i have felt the ripples in your skin like the sand has felt the ocean waves and i know that your body doesn’t curve in as much as you’d like it to but it is still the perfect position for my hands on your waist. they asked me to write vows for you but i cannot write about you without stopping and so here we are, dancing and it feels like the first time. i outstretch my hand and you spin under it like a ballerina in a jewellery box and i am close to you and i think about the palms of your hands the first time. we were at the sea life centre and you pressed them against the glass and i’d never wished to be glass more than in that moment and seeing the wonder in your cocoa-crimson-tinged eyes struck something within me and suddenly i was yours. that was the first time and there has been many times since.
and so here we are, again, dancing. the candles never stopped burning. my heart still echoed. we had our first time, our second time, we had our fortieth time and this is our last and i take your palm and though there are sunspots from a sun who finally understood the delicate skin it was kissing and though there are wrinkles from a body that has been preserving the most precious heart in its treasure chest, you are always the most beautiful. your cocoa-crimson-tinged eyes are tired but their glimmer has never exhausted. i have been writing vows for you over the course of our lives, just like the first time and there will never be a last time for my love for you but this is our last time and i hold you the way you held that abandoned baby bird when we were 26 only twice as tenderly.
you are my first love, you are my lifetime love but darling, there is no last for us.
