We sit.

Holding hands across the table.

Staring into each others eyes,

I turn away. Caught between

embarrassment and elation.

I notice the freckles on your wrist,

peeking out from your sleeve

and

imagine where else they may be.

You kiss my shoulder.

I kiss your neck.

Every touch is better than the last.

I drink in every word you say

every eyebrow raise, nervous laugh

delighted in it all.

In you.

 

Where have you been?

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