Of all the people I’ve kissed, she was my favorite.

The first time we tried to kiss, it took us exactly 4 minutes before my lips landed on her teeth. We laughed for 5 seconds, immediately retreating to the 2-inch distance between our nostrils. That 20-second courage was all it took before I regretted ever giving away my first kiss to someone I barely knew. She didn’t flinch the second time I kissed her forehead, but she did let out the longest sigh I’ve heard in my life. When her hands reached for my neck, I knew we are losing ourselves in the moment and I had no plan of ever stopping. She was not the brick, she was not the window pane. That night, she was the universe. It was all skin, clothes, skin, skin, and mostly soul.

I wasn’t used to her scent sleeping next to me. I wasn’t used to her legs all tangled in mine. I couldn’t possibly sleep. But soon enough I understood – sleep wasn’t the most important thing in the world. It was losing sleep over late night conversations, confessions, and honesty hours. It was her talking about her passion too much she starts apologizing. It was trying to figure out our next step. It was the journey to discovering you piece by piece. It was never just about proximity. It was kissing her all night until her lower lip bled the sunrise. It was kissing her until her breath loses its rhythm. It was kissing her until the tears turned into pleas of “Don’t ever stop kissing me.” It was kissing her until someone knocks on the door. It was kissing her until all her fears hid under the bed again. It was kissing her until all my monsters settled in beside her ghosts.

It was kissing her.